


Pygmalion.

by ghostfacekillmonger



Category: Us (Movie 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:09:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23383558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostfacekillmonger/pseuds/ghostfacekillmonger
Summary: A UCLA psychology professor takes on a dangerously aggressive tethered as a special case-study, moving him into her home and making him feel human for the first time. When her feelings begin to expand beyond the work, she doubts if he could ever truly reciprocate her affections.
Relationships: Abraham/Black!Female!Reader, Abraham/Black!Reader, Abraham/reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

_Santa Cruz Pier was shut down indefinitely. There were few that survived, so the city took whatever volunteers they could to clean up bodies. The aftermath was a grueling scene - so much so that funeral homes, crematoriums, and city morgues were overcapacity. There were more corpses than there were families to mourn them. On a bright Tuesday morning, 58-year-old Linden Perry walked the blood-stained sand of the beach, praying that there were no more bodies to be found. God didn’t hear him that day. Linden lifted his walkie-talkie to his mouth after spotting a limp body that had washed up on the shore, clothed in one of those red jumpsuits. “We got another one.” He approached it slowly, taking in the large size. It was a man. Dark-skinned. Open wound across his neck. “On the way, Perry”. The beach was eerily quiet aside from the seagulls and the crash of the waves, but Linden could have sworn he heard groaning. He looked down to see the chest of the man rising and falling slowly. How could this be possible? Linden’s hands shook as he called back to headquarters: “Bring First Aid…He’s still alive.”_

-;-;-

It had been a little over two years since “The Tethered” incident.

As fate would have it, you were on a long international flight that summer night, returning from a much-needed vacation. After the news hit the air, the crew determined it was unsafe to land and circled the airplane until morning. You landed in Los Angeles to much chaos and confusion. People were still afraid and traumatized, fighting over seats to flights out of the city; you could see why. Bodies littered the streets on your drive home.

Those that were fortunate enough to survive decided it may be best to find ways to integrate the shadows into normal society, or what was left of it at least. Professionals across a myriad of disciplines united en masse to figure out what they could do to “rehabilitate” them. The UCLA College of Life Science and Psychology acted quickly, eager to use experimental methods on people they believed were inhuman. You argued many days with your colleagues that society could not afford another Tuskegee or another Stanford. These were real people and they should be treated like such. There had to be ways to help, or even heal them, without causing any more damage.

Unfortunately, your more behavioral focused methods were of the minority. The university lost many tethered to botched lobotomies and overly-enthusiastic electroshock therapy; some others contracted diseases and viruses that their bodies were not immune to. You found yourself burying and memorializing them far too often. However, researchers did find music and art therapy to be most successful with young children. A great number of them learned to read and speak and were adopted into loving families. The adults that remained required more time, but you were patient with them even if no one else was. You worked closely alongside speech pathologists, teaching words and phrases and trying your best to connect.

You had been a practicing psychotherapist for nearly ten years now. There was no way you could see everything, but you had definitely seen a lot. This would be new territory completely - dealing with the traumatized civilians and the seemingly underdeveloped tethered. Between teaching and seeing private patients, you spent your free time deep diving on the internet - looking for any information you could about the government experiment that created them. That was until the dean gave you a very special project.

“You do great work here, we can’t say that enough.”

You sat at an oblong table in the conference room during a Spring department-wide meeting, surrounded by mostly white men. Some of them were still scarred from fighting for their lives just a few years prior. Their faces were all somber that morning and you could sense that bullshit was afoot.

“What is this about, Dr. Young?”

“Ah,” the dean adjusted his tie. “We know you are an assertive advocate for the _tethered_. I’ve gotten information on a particularly difficult one and I think you would be the perfect fit to take it on as a case study. It will be more like a fostering program, where you take him into your home.”

  
_Particularly difficult. Wait…_ “In my home? And how do I do that with my workload?” you questioned, thinking of the four classes you were scheduled to teach in the fall and the students you had to advise.

“We can disperse the courses you teach among the department, that’s not a problem. You’ll be glad to know there will be a salary increase when you do take this on. And a stipend from the state to cover care costs.”

You scoffed. “I don’t do this for the money, Dr. Young. If I wanted to be rich, I would have actually went into medicine.” A few of your colleagues laughed and the room lightened for a moment. Dr. Young remained stern.

“He’s had some very violent outbreaks here lately. The ward has discussed…euthanizing him.”

“Like an animal? How is that ethical?!” You could feel your temperature rising and you found yourself having to remind them again of his humanity and their own.

“Which is exactly why you should work with him. We don’t want to see that happen. Not anymore.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is. They’re better off dead.” Mitchell Dubose spoke angrily from his seat. He was a tenure professor with twice your years of experience and half of your compassion. “The success stories are few and far between. What makes you think _you_ can make a difference?”

“They’re people just like us, Dr. Dubose. They deserve a chance. Some effort at the very least,” you directed. 

Dr. Young’s face brightened. “Are you saying you’ll do it?”

You exhaled and gauged the faces of the people in the room. Their eyes were pleading. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

-;-;-

He was housed in a private psychiatric hospital, isolated from others in a padded room. Sometimes he was calm, they told you, but he would often have spells of violence that resulted in the injuries of a few hospital attendants.

“His name is Abraham,” the nurse informed you as she handed over his chart. “He has language, but he doesn’t speak very often.” You fixed your heavy tote bag on your shoulder and flipped quickly through the pages. He was found on the beach at the Santa Monica Pier, barely clinging to life. The cut to his neck should have killed him. Prone to outbursts. Age estimated to be in his late 30’s. They had cleared the recreation room to give him space - and appropriately so. He was not a small man. He sat in a folding chair directly in front of an old box television, hands cuffed and feet shackled at the ankles. He looked more like a prisoner than a patient.

“Is the hardware really necessary, ma’am?”

The nurse sighed and shook her head, “He almost broke a guy’s neck. Trust me, girl. It’s for your safety. Good luck.” _Good luck?_ She walked away before you could ask her any more questions. You stood away and observed him for a few moments from your position in the doorway. The chair looked like a child’s under him and he shifted very often. He had to be uncomfortable. Now and then he would make a low primitive sound at the TV, like a growl or grunt. He watched whatever program that was playing with low, squinted eyes. You wondered if he could see at all. 

The time came for you to make your move. Walking quickly, you cut off the TV with one swift turn of the nob, much to his dismay. He jumped up from the chair causing you to stumble backward and drop your bag and his chart. He thought he could scare you like he had done the others, but there was no fear in your eyes, only compassion. “Hey, hey. Abraham. I’m sorry.” He growled low as if to apologize as well.

You introduced yourself and grabbed one of his large hands with both of yours. They were dry and cracked. You turned them over for a second, taking note of the scars and calluses. “They’re not taking very good care of you in here, are they?”

He relaxed his shoulders a bit at your touch, surprised that someone was being gentle with him. There was a sense of concern in your voice that he hadn’t heard from any of the other doctors or nurses that came to see him. They treated him like an animal and caged him like one, too.

“Let’s sit down and talk. Would you like that?” He exhaled and moved to return to the awful folding chair he was once in. “You don’t like that chair. How about the couch? More comfortable.”

He was hesitant at first until you smiled. A gesture he didn’t see often. You motioned at the beat-up brown couch at the center of the room. He nodded his head in affirmation and sat, sinking into the worn-out cushions. This allowed him to sit back and spread his legs, as much as he could with the shackles.

“That’s better, yeah?”

He grunted. You picked your things up from the floor and took a place beside him on the sofa.

“I know you don’t talk a bunch, and I don’t blame you. Especially not to the people around here. But I want to help you with some words if I can.” You pulled a thick stack of flashcards out of your bag. Some pictures, some sight words. You shuffled through them until you found what you needed. A happy face and a sad face. “How do you feel today, Abraham? Happy? Or sad?” You held them to either side of your face. Abraham’s eyes toggled between the two pictures and your warm visage. It had not been a good week for him. After endless taunting from a young worker, Abraham finally snapped and fractured the man’s neck with one hit. For days, they had shackled him and starved him in that dim padded room. He lifted his cuffed hands and chose the frown. “Sad. We’ll have to change that.” You shuffled through the cards once more. A bright drawing of a husband, wife, and two children. You held it up for the both of you to see. “Did you have a family, Abraham?” He squinted at the picture. Curious, you decided to try something. You slipped the card into his hand and watched as he brought it very close, only one or two inches, from his face. Just as you had suspected, his eyesight was bad.

“Yes,” he answered. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. His voice wasn’t strong, but you could understand him. His demeanor changed as he continued to look at the card. “Die…”

“Your family died?” He nodded. No wonder the man had been so angry. “I’m sorry that you lost your family, Abraham.” He turned and looked at you, a single tear rolling down his face. You wiped it instinctively but recoiled once you realized you had broken the touch barrier. This wasn’t the time to be unprofessional. After some more prodding and questions, you discovered he had a wife, a daughter, and a son. All killed during the uprising.

Abraham was curious about you. You had a spirit that was much different than the other doctors. One that was friendly. One that cared. Surely, there was someone who loved you as he had loved his wife and children.

“Fam..family?” He stammered, posing the question to you. He knew more words, but for some reason, he couldn’t find them. His brain and his mouth were not working together.

“Do I have a family? No,” you replied. “Not one like yours.” You had been engaged once before, but it ended before you could even finish your doctoral program. He complained that you were taking too long. That you were too serious. You thought he was your end all be all and often dreamed of the two of you with a son and daughter, living the American dream. “But I didn’t come here to interrogate you, Abraham. Things are about to change.”

Abraham let his eyes explore the room. Furniture that could barely hold him and chipping paint on the walls. The change was good if it took him away from here.

“In a few days, you will move into my home and away from hospitals for good, I hope. You are a citizen. You are an individual. You are human. My goal is to make you a productive one. That way you can get a job and your own home one day. Be independent.” He darted his eyes around the room, but he seemed to follow what you were saying. “You’ll see me doing a lot of typing and writing like they do here. And we’ll talk a lot so I can learn about you and how I can help you. How does that sound? Good?”

He leaned in, closing some of the space between you. Abraham wanted to see your eyes and their sincerity. A lot of people had promised to help him and wasn’t sure what made you so different. He stared for a moment. Squinting and searching your face.

“Yes,” followed by a sigh of relief. “Good.”

You lifted the smiling card again, next to your smiling face.

“Happy.”

You spent the rest of your visit describing what your time together would be like. You created a special ring of cards detailing his daily routines including the times and schedules for the busy days. Structure for you and him both. You made sure to show him pictures of your home, neighborhood, and some of the other therapists that would be working with you. If this was going to be successful, the transition had to go as smoothly as possible.

The nurse made a loud entrance into the room, toting a wheelchair, startling both you and Abraham.

“Visiting time is over.”

Two hours had passed. It was nearing 7 P.M.

“Looks like we let time get away from us, Abraham. Remember, I’ll come back tomorrow. And then Friday you get to leave with me. Two days.” You held up two fingers. “One. Two.” He mimicked your hand movements and looked to you for approval. “Exactly.”

The nurse cleared her throat, annoyed. “We need to get him back to his room. It’s time for his meds.”

Abraham lifted from the couch and walked towards the small nurse, letting her secure him to the chair. He was familiar with the routine. Some nights he would be lucky if they even unchained him.

You quickly gathered your things and caught up with them in the hallway. “I didn’t see any medications on his chart. What’s it for?”

“We give him a sedative to help him sleep. It makes him easier to deal with.” She turned a corner and rolled her eyes as you continued to follow them.

“You know he can understand you right? You talk about him like he’s a burden.”

“It’s to keep him safe.”

  
“To keep him safe or keep him compliant?”

Two CNA’s stood in wait at Abraham’s door. The room was padded, as you were told, and only held a bed that was much too small for him. One of the assistants tied a rubber band around Abraham’s arm while the nurse prepared a syringe. His eyes fell to the ground and her’s pleaded for you to leave.

Something wasn’t right here.

  
“I’m staying until you put him in bed,” you said suspiciously.

The nurse huffed and puffed several times, her face growing red with annoyance.

“Put him in,” she ordered the two men through gritted teeth.

They kept him cuffed and shackled. His knees bent, as to not hang over the foot of the bed. You took the liberty to adjust his pillow until you heard him softly whisper, good. The nurse nudged you out of the way before plunging the needle into his veins. The medicine worked quickly and his eyes watched you as he slowly drifted off. You raised your fingers again; his hand fluttered to do the same.

“One…Two…”


	2. Chapter 2

You were grateful for your home.

And the fact that you had another bedroom big enough to fit an additional king-sized bed. After seeing how uncomfortable Abraham was at the hospital, you knew you had to make adjustments. You couldn’t imagine what those tiny hospital beds must have been like for him, but you knew that he deserved some softness in his life. High thread count sheets, down pillows, all of the luxuries he had been denied.

After you called her in a panic Wednesday night, your older sister Eden agreed to give you the old California King she and her husband had in storage, as well as some of his old clothes. Then she insisted on helping you put it all together. Not to _actually_ be helpful, but to see if she could convince you to change your mind. Your family barely escaped the uprising, and she had no idea why you were so passionate about advocating for the _tethered_.

“You sure about this, boo?” Eden asked while helping you make Abraham’s bed.

“It’s too late for me to not be sure.”

“Do Mama and Daddy know you’re about to shack up with one of _them_?”

“His name is Abraham and yes, they know.” You pulled the sheets tight between the mattress and box spring. Your parents weren’t pleased, but you told them the same thing you would tell Eden. “This is work.”

She shrugged and hummed a little tune. “I don’t know, I kind of like you like this. Very motherly.” She helped pull up the heavy comforter and fluffed the large pillows. “Reminds me of myself before I had the twins. Look at you now - folding clothes for him and making his bed…”

You definitely felt like you were nesting. The entire house had been almost entirely “baby proofed” with secure locks on doors and cabinets, and covers on electrical outlets. You figured you couldn’t be too careful. Eden also convinced you to let her store some of your fancy plates and vases for safekeeping.

“I want my shit back after this is all over, too.” You reminded her.

“Ooh, so touchy about your antiques. As long as your nieces and nephews don’t get to them, everything should be fine.” Eden followed you downstairs and ran her fingers over the upright piano you had restored in your teenage years. It was one of the first things you had ever fixed. “This’ll be more like taking care of a child than an adult. Can he read? Count?”

“They took him through some classes when he first arrived. He has some basic literacy, at least…I think.”

“Like a child?”

“Yeah…like a child.”

“K. Michelle said you can’t raise a man, y’know?”

“He’s an adult, Eden.”

“Is he, though?”

You stopped in the kitchen and tried to gather yourself. You realized that you really didn’t know what you were doing. Since your broken engagement several years ago, you were heavily against sharing your home with a man again. But here you were, making space for a stranger, particularly one that could easily overpower and hurt you. Eden read the worried look on your face and pulled you into a hug.

“Baby, you’re a wonderful therapist. I know you’re going to do your best to help this man. I just want you to be safe.”

You groaned into your sister’s shoulder before pulling away. “I know, I know. I will be.”

She rubbed your back in small circles for a moment, a gesture she had used to calm you down since you were children. “Now, you got some coffee in this joint or did that get locked away, too?”

Your lips crept up into a smile as you pulled two mugs from the cabinet. You twirled the carousel of Keurig pods on the counter before finding your sister’s favorite and plopping it into the machine.

“Thank you for helping me, E.”

“That’s what big sisters are for.” She started to rummage through your refrigerator, looking for breakfast. “No sausage, no bacon, you’re really going all out.” She settled on Greek yogurt and propped herself up on a barstool at the island.

You were also grateful for the stipend that allowed you to take care of him. It was common that the _tethered_ would not take meat, having been subject to eating raw rabbit while they were underground. In the weeks leading up to Abraham’s arrival, you made a habit of filling your refrigerator with meat substitutes and fresh produce, trying out a new vegetarian recipe every night.

“You going back to see him today?”

“Mm-hm,” you hummed, sitting her coffee before her. You brewed a mug of hot water for yourself. “I’m going to try to get there to eat dinner with him, see how mealtimes go. I’ll be glad when tomorrow gets here. That place even fucks me up, so I know he doesn’t like it.”

Silence stewed in the kitchen as you steeped a tea bag in your mug. Eden stirred in her seat; she had something to say and you knew it without ever looking up.

“What if he doesn’t like it here?”

You paused.

“I don’t know, Eden.” You brought the mug up to your lips and blew the steam away gently. “I don’t know.”

-;-;-

Hospital food was disgusting no matter where you went.

It was less of a smell and more of an odor, wafting through the hallways. It triggered memories of the time you were hospitalized as a child for pneumonia and refused to eat what they brought you. Your father snuck in chicken nuggets and crinkle fries, and you were thinking you should have done the same for Abraham.

The same small red-headed nurse cut her eyes at you as you passed her going into Abraham’s room. He sat on the side of his bed, still cuffed and shackled, picking over the slop on his plate.

“You don’t have to pretend it’s good.”

Abraham’s brows shot up in surprise at the sound of your voice. You had actually come back. He couldn’t tell, but the corners of his mouth were slightly curling up in a smile that matched yours. There was a knot in his throat again as he stammered to speak. “H..h-h..hi.”

There was something about him in that moment that warmed your heart. He was trying. “Hi, friend.” The wheelchair from the night before sat idle in the corner. You rolled it near his bed, locked it in place, and made yourself as comfortable as you possibly could. “I promise to feed you better than this, okay?”

He nodded. Nothing on his plate looked particularly edible. For a private facility, you thought they would at least have better food. But he ate it. Slowly. Savoring it as if it may be his last meal. You fumbled through your bag to look for your cards again.

“Hap-py,” Abraham stated before you could find the laminated illustrations. He had been practicing, rehearsing words to himself in the solitude of his room.

“That’s good that you’re happy. Can you tell me why?”

He exhaled and closed his eyes, imagining what was beyond the gray hospital walls. To this point, most of his life had been spent confined to limited quarters. “H…homme.”

“And when do we go home?”

Abraham raised one finger from his fork.

“One more day. You’re right.” You passed on the cards for the moment and scribbled down anecdotal notes onto a yellow legal pad. You flipped through his medical chart again. There were records of cognitive therapy from a doctor you didn’t recognize, as well as semi-consistent speech therapy but it had been months since he had attended either. Despite this, you believed Abraham might have been more advanced than you initially thought.

“You’re ready to get out of here?” He didn’t reply, but you already knew his answer. After your talk with Eden and your present interaction with Abraham, the responsibility of creating a home for the both of you started to weigh heavy. You were now his caretaker, his doctor, his…everything. Maybe you had taken on too much.

Abraham examined you as your expression fell, aware that your mood wasn’t as bright as before. He hoped you hadn’t changed your mind. You rose from your chair and sat beside him on the bed, shuffling through more cards.

“Let’s make a plan for tomorrow. I’ll be here at 9 o’clock in the morning. I’m going to find you an eye doctor because I think you need some of these.” You showed him a picture of a pair of square glasses and he immediately touched the bridge of his nose. “I guess you know that, too. We got you a big, soft bed where you can stretch those long legs, yeah?” Abraham nodded his head and flexed his ankles some. There was a slight glimmer of hope shining through his eyes.

Your favorite nurse found her way back in. She spoke harshly to Abraham, asking him if he was done eating and taking away his tray all at the same time. He didn’t flinch or contest. Abraham hurried to take the final sips of his water before she snatched that away too. It was too much for you. It was obvious that they were mistreating him and you didn’t feel comfortable letting him stay here another night. So, you made a rash decision. You cleared your throat several times, but the nurse acted as if she didn’t want to acknowledge your presence in the room. You had to make her.

“Excuse me, is the doctor around?”

“Why?” Her tone was very sharp and you didn’t appreciate it

“I want to see about releasing him early.”

She was taken aback, nearly dropping the items in her hand.

“Early? It’s just one more night.”

“Exactly. He shouldn’t have to spend another night here. Especially not with you.”

She cleaned up what was left on his table.

“Just get the doctor. Please and thank you.”

She left the room in a huff, but she did do what you asked. After a few minutes, the doctor finally arrived, the nurse following close behind him. He was a short man, pale with wiry gray hair and round glasses that made him look like an owl. Dr. Henson was his name. Abraham’s body language changed and he rolled his shoulders back.

“So, I heard you want to break this guy out tonight?”

“That’s correct. I know we planned for tomorrow morning but -”

“Are you’re sure you’re ready for this? If this transition isn’t smooth, you could see a regression in his behavior.”

“I understand that…”

“I’ll write you the prescription for his sedative. Makes him more manageable. ”

“I’m not doing that. I’m not putting any more cuffs on him either.” 

“You _do_ realize you don’t have the comfort of hospital supports in your home? No physicians, no nurses.”

“I understand, Dr. Henson.”

“Have you thought about contacting a home care service?”

“He’s not…” You looked over to Abraham who had been staring at you the whole time. “He’s not incompetent. You wrote it yourself in his chart. He can speak, he can feed and bathe himself.”

“That doesn’t mean he can survive outside of here.”

“Which is where I come in.”

“This pet project you and UCLA have created is hardly ethical.”

You stood up and towered over the tiny man.

“Yet you and your medical director agreed to it. And don’t you dare talk to me about ethics when you keep him chained and doped up in this prison cell of a room. Completely isolated - there’s not even a window in here!”

Dr. Henson rolled his eyes. “What difference does it make…”

“Abraham could be so much farther along if this institution had been consistent with his care.”

“What are you suggesting, _doctor_?”

This was now a standoff between professionals. You knew he thought less of you because you weren’t a physician, but you didn’t care.

“I’m suggesting that you failed him and will continue to fail him if he is left in here any longer. You and almost every other physician in this country are setting these people up for failure so you can justify killing them and mistreating them…”

“You really believe you can do better?” The doctor’s question was condescending. He read you as arrogant as if you were insulting his intelligence. But the truth was the truth and Abraham was not making any progress there.

“I don’t know. But I know I’m willing to try a hell of a lot harder than you have.”

The doctor sighed heavily.

“Amber, take his vitals when you get a chance,” he said to the nurse. He then turned back to you and gave a dry smile. “I’ll go draw up your paperwork.”

“ _Thank you_.”

Amber proceeded to take Abraham’s heart rate and blood pressure, albeit rather roughly.

“Did he have any possessions?” You asked, rummaging through his closet. It was full of hospital pajamas and socks. All gray and bland.

“What possessions could he possibly have?”

The gold scissors were few and far between, most of them were in the evidence rooms of police warehouses across the country, as were the red suits. Maybe he had a drawing. A piece of jewelry. Something that he held dear and reminded him of his family.

“I asked you a simple question…”

From the corner of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of a yellow piece of cloth buried under piles of hospital scrubs. You pulled it from the bottom and unfolded it to the light. It was very small, children’s size, but still in good shape like it had been preserved.

_**Hands Across America - May 25, 1986** _

The red chain of people looked eerily similar to the media images of the tethered as they stretched across streets and neighborhoods. “I haven’t seen one of these in ages. Where did this come from?” You questioned, doubtful that either one of them could answer.

Abraham reached out for it and held it close to his chest as soon as you placed it in his hands.

 _Peculiar_ , you thought; but maybe one day he would be able to explain.

Soon enough, the doctor returned with a stack of papers you gladly signed. Abraham wasn’t so sure what to do with himself when they uncuffed him, so you grabbed his hand and stood by his side. Your fingers were soft again his, and he liked that feeling.

“Are you sure about this?” Dr. Henson asked one last time.

You looked around the room, then at Abraham who was looking down at you. He didn’t know if his face showed it, but he was ready to follow you wherever. Even though he had just met you, he felt protected and secure, more with you than any other doctor that attempted to “help” him. 

This was going to be a new start and new life for him. He deserved it. He deserved a chance. 

“I’ve never been so sure in my life.”


	3. Chapter 3

The sky and clouds were a glorious shade of blue, mixed with purples and oranges like the world had been set ablaze. Abraham had never seen those colors before. He had never seen something so natural and so beautiful. What else had he missed while being trapped behind those hospital walls? He stood in amazement and took deep breaths of fresh air - a simple thing he seldom had the chance to do. 

“Pretty isn’t it?” You questioned. You struggled to put the finishing adjustments to the passenger’s seat of your sedan, hoping it would be enough to accommodate Abraham’s long legs. Suddenly you regretted not buying that SUV years ago as your father suggested.

“Yes,” he sighed. The colors dreamily began to fade down into the night sky. “Pret-ty.”

“Can’t see many stars in the city, though. That’s the only thing.”

You smiled to yourself as Abraham took small steps around the parking lot, taking notice of the passing cars and other tall structures in the neighborhood. He looked back at the hospital building one last time. It was the same on the outside as it was on the inside - gray and lifeless. Abraham preferred this new world of color.

You felt your cell phone vibrating in your pocket. You checked the ID to see that it was your superior Dr. Young. The hospital couldn’t even wait until you had left the grounds to snitch you out to your department chair, but you didn’t care. Not anymore. Isn’t this the job he asked you to do? You silenced the call and tossed your phone in the cup holder of your car.

“Let’s go home, buddy.”

-;-;-

You had been running your mouth ever since you got Abraham home. He tried to keep up as you toured him around the house, naming gadgets and devices and rooms he had never heard of. Your home was much different from the hospital. It was bright, with pictures and paintings covering the walls. Abraham made himself a note to ask questions when he had the right words.

After a half-hour of showing him how your flat screen TV worked, the grand tour landed you two in the kitchen. While you fumbled through cabinets and drawers, he eyed a bowl of fruit on the counter. You stopped talking once you realized he didn’t care much about your collection of coffee mugs.

“Are you hungry still? This is your home now. You can have anything you want!” You offered the bowl out to him with the same warm smile he was quickly growing to adore. “These are called Pink Lady apples - really juicy and crunchy - here!” 

Abraham didn’t have time to refuse as you forced the apple into his hands. The only fruit the hospital served was from a can or plastic cup. 

“Bite it. It’s good. I promise…”

He had to examine it first. He was entranced by the smooth texture of the skin and the melding green and red colors. He lifted it to his nose - no smell from the outside. He licked it - no taste on the skin. Seemed safe enough. Abraham looked at you again for reassurance before parting his lips.

The first bite was sweet and crisp. The juices of the apple ran down and soaked into his thick beard. He had never tasted something so fresh, from the same earth he was finally free to walk. He rapidly took more bites until his mouth was almost overflowing. He tried to speak through the mush but settled for muffled sounds of approval.

“Whoa, whoa, pace yourself! It’s not going anywhere…” You laughed and tore off a half-sheet of paper towels. He stood still long enough for you to wipe his mouth. 

After a few moments of labored chewing, he was finally able to swallow the mass in his mouth. He grinned, flashing the small gap between his front teeth. “I like this.”

“I can tell. I’ll remember to keep these around though since you like them so much.”

Feeling a sudden burst of energy, Abraham moved around the kitchen on his own while enjoying his apple. That was until the yapping of a small dog drew his attention to the outside. He stood in front of the French doors that lead to your backyard and squinted at the darkness. He wasn’t completely visible, your neighbor’s Yorkie could be seen through the space in the wood fence that separated your property. It was strange for him to be outside this time of night.

Abraham tapped his finger on the glass of the door, towards the mutt. “The noise. What…” The sound aggravated him in a way he couldn’t explained. The rabbits had made small noises too, but not like that, “What is it?”

You weren’t a big fan of the dog either. “That’s Baxter. He belongs to my neighbor Nancy.”

“But  _ what _ ?”

“Oh…oh!”  _ Shit _ “…you’ve…never seen a dog before. We’ve got some work to do.”

The realization hit you like a weight. There was so much that Abraham didn’t know and you hadn’t even realized it. You’d just add it to the list of things someone had to cover between his time at home with you and his therapy session on campus. Abraham furrowed his brow as he watched Baxter continued to bark and run along the fence. Suddenly, a light flickered on in an upstairs bedroom room of the house next door. Nancy was also nosey as hell, so any peek of guest in your home would surely send her into a frenzy. You quickly moved Abraham away from the door and let him finish his able before moving the tour upstairs. He followed on your heels, so close that you could feel his breath on your neck. He peeped above your head as you showed him your bedroom and the bathroom, making sure to remember how close you would be. You stopped in the doorway of his new bedroom and clicked on the light. 

“And this is all yours, Abraham.”

His eyes widened at the sight of his new space. No more padded plain walls or ugly standardized furniture. The bed was larger than any he had seen before, with a headboard made of warm mahogany. He ran his fingers along the matching dresser. It was worn and old, but it had character. Personality.

“There are some clothes in the drawer, hand me downs from my brother-in-law. We’ll get you some stuff of your own eventually…” Abraham placed his hands over the plush comforter and pressed down. His eyes lit up as he sunk into the softness. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw someone that innocent or a reaction that pure. “You like it?”

He nodded slowly, as his attention moved towards the pillows. There were several, stacked on top of one another, all full and fluffy. The hospital might as well have had him sleeping on cinder blocks compared to the big bed he had now. Abraham knew he could never go back there. Not after this. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and lay down? I’m sure you’re tired.” You turned down the covers for him and he finally sat, for the first time since being inside. He continued to run his hand over the soft sheets. 

Maybe it was all a fever dream. He had had those before. Fantasies that he was free. Pictures from old magazines and television shows often fed his imagination of what the outside was like. Perfectly manicured lawns in beautiful hillside neighborhoods. White fences, white linens…white families. But this wasn’t like that. This was much better. This was warmer. Real. He finally let himself relax as you tucked the covers under his chin. 

Before either of you realized it, Abraham had started to doze off. His eyelids fluttered as you tipped out of the room, but you didn’t make it out of the doorway before you heard a tiny, exhausted voice call out:

“ _ Thank…you. _ ”

-;-;-

The house was peaceful for a couple of hours as Abraham slept. You decided to reply to some strongly worded work emails and review Abraham’s paperwork again. This would be a journey and not an easy one, but you had convinced yourself, and everyone else, that you were the woman for the job. Your concentration was interrupted by the heavy dragging of feet down the hallway. He was awake.

Abraham followed the only light in the hallway to your room. He was surprised to find you up, with papers and a computer spread across your own soft bed. You greeted him with a soft smile as you always did. You had long changed into comfortable clothes and tied your hair up in a floral print silk scarf. 

“Up so soon?” You shuffled the loose papers together to make space. “Come and sit.”

Abraham moved slowly into your bedroom. The rest of the house was clean and orderly, but your space was slightly messy. There were more papers stacked on a desk and clothes draped over chairs and bedposts. He could tell you did more than sleep there. There was also a sweet smell to the air around you. It was a scent he couldn’t recognize yet, but he liked it. He sat down where you invited him, noticing your bed was slightly firmer than his and didn’t bounce as much.

Silence settled in the room as you typed on your computer. Abraham just sat contently and watched you work. He didn’t want anything in particular. He just wanted to make sure you were still there. 

You looked at the digital clock on your nightstand to see how late it actually was. Not quite midnight. “Look at that,” you said, turning the clock towards him. “It’s 11:11, Abraham. Make a wish.”

_ A wish _ . The people on TV usually blew out candles to make a wish. Or rubbed on a funny looking lamp. Neither one of those things were present here - just symmetrical numbers on a bright clock. But what did he have to lose? 

Abraham took a heavy breath and closed his eyes.

He wished he could stay here forever. 


	4. Chapter 4

He was screaming again. 

If your neighbors had been closer, they would have filed complaints by now. Luckily, and unfortunately, you were the only one that could hear him. You lifted your cell phone from the nightstand to check the time: **4:38 A.M.**

_ Fuck. _

In his nightmares, Abraham felt like he was drowning again. Water rushed into his ears and over his head, filling his lungs. The darkness was enclosing him and Death had placed her sweet lips on his. His only saving grace now was knowing that you would be there when he woke up. Words forsaking him, he cried out into the night.

Adjusting wasn’t as simple as it seemed at first. A month had passed since you first brought Abraham home and these outbursts were becoming a weekly occurrence. Two to three times a week in fact, which made it even more difficult to keep him on a daily schedule. Every time it was the same routine, you would shuffle down the hallway to his bedroom and turn on the light. He would be nearly inconsolable, thrashing in his sheets with tears welling in his eyes. After consulting with other therapists, you tried weighted blankets and compression sheets - even a white noise machine. Nothing seemed to work for him. You determined they were night terrors but during these times he would refuse to speak or interact, regressing back to the primitive sounds he would make when you first met him.

Exhausted, you drug yourself to the edge of his bed and reached for his arm in the darkness. 

“Abraham,” you spoke sleepily. “It’s okay. It’s not real, remember?”

For the first time during one of these episodes, he spoke. Yelled. Screamed. “No!” 

Before you could steady him, you felt the pressure of his arm against your chest and the rough dresser against your face. You yelped in pain and slid to the floor. Your own cries snapped Abraham out of his headspace and back to reality. His eyes, more well adjusted to the dark, found you doubled over on the floor. The impact knocked the wind out of you and the taste of salt and copper filled your mouth. Abraham stammered trying to find his words - any words - that could apologize to you. Instead, he took you roughly into his arms.

“I’m okay,” you pushed against his chest while your other hand braced your body on the floor. Spikes of pain shot through your body. “Just...turn on the light.”

Abraham released you gently and did as told. There were smudges of blood on his sleep shirt and your hand. You touched your own face, not exactly sure where it originated. After carefully placing on his new glasses he knelt down to help you stand and followed you into the bathroom in the hallway. There was that lump in his throat again. He started to babble nonsense syllables, attempting to beg. Abraham was worried that he had angered you. His immediate concern is that you would send him away. He lowered the toilet seat to sit and watched you study your face in the mirror, as he did many mornings. He had become fond of observing your morning rituals - moisturizing your face and fluffing your hair. 

It was your lip. Without even trying, he had pushed you away so hard that you bit down inside your lip and drew blood. You spit into the sink and watched the red liquid swirl down the drain. 

“It’s not that bad. I’ll be fine.” You let the cold water run over your hands and a white washcloth until it finally turned warm. “I’ll be fine.” The warm cloth helped to wake you up a bit when you placed it on your face. You blamed yourself. It was your own fault for not turning on the light before touching him during one of his episodes. Whatever plagued him in his sleep must have thrived in the darkness. 

Abraham was rocking himself and still babbling under his breath like a nervous wreck. “Oh, bless your heart, honey. Hold on...” You soaked another washcloth in warm water and stood in front of him. “Shh, shh...calm down. We’re okay.” You lifted his head gently, moving his glasses, and placed the cloth over his face. His breathing finally steadied. “Let’s breathe…Ready?” He nodded his head. “In through your nose…” You inhaled deeply together. “Out through your mouth. Again.”

This carried on for several minutes until the towel went cold. You wet it with warm water again and proceeded to gently wipe his face, free from tears and boogers and the little crusties in the corners of his eyes. He leaned into your body, ravished by your softness. He wasn’t drowning anymore, but he wanted to be overcome by you. In a matter of weeks he was already spoiled by your gentle touch and your calm demeanor, things he had been deprived of all his life. 

You smiled to yourself, wondering what Eden would think of this scene - you washing his face like a child. “Look at me acting like a mommy. You’re not a baby, though. I have to treat you like a man.” 

“Baby…” He whispered. You wrote it off as repetition when he meant it as a term of endearment. He had heard it used before. That’s what you call people you like. Abraham’s fingertips grazed your thighs, sending a tingle up your spine. You were almost ashamed that you had shuddered at his touch, but he was absolutely a man and you hadn’t been touched by one in a very long time. Maybe he would feel for you, only because you were helping him.

“I don’t think either of us is going back to sleep, buddy.” You pulled his glasses back down to the bridge of his nose. His big brown eyes shot up at you, sucking you into a trance. Now you were the one with a frog in your throat, fumbling over words. “Let’s um...let’s have breakfast.”

  
  


-;-;-

  
  


“I hurt you.” Your head shot up from the skillet of eggs you were scrambling. Abraham’s voice was clear and unwavering. He sat at the kitchen table, hands folded in his lap. “I hurt you. I am bad.” 

The eggs were starting to brown. “You didn’t mean to, Abraham. It was an accident.” You turned your eyes back to the pan. “And you’re not  _ bad _ . I don’t want to hear you say that again. You understand?”

Abraham went quiet and watched you sweat over the stove.

“I’m not sending you back to that hospital. That won’t happen. You’re safe here.”

“Safe,” he echoed.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore. You’ve suffered enough.”

Abraham felt validated in your statement. People often saw  _ the tethered _ as monsters created to raise hell, when in reality they just wanted the same basic necessities their counterparts had. They were robbed of sunlight, of fresh foods. You recognized that he had suffered. No one had done that before.

“You,” Abraham started. He watched as you plated the eggs. “You are good.”

“I try, Abraham. I really do try.” You sighed and pulled a dwindling loaf of wheat bread from the pantry. “Come make us some toast.”

Abraham loved all of the gadgets in your kitchen, but the toaster was his favorite. He was very careful with the bread, placing a single slice in each of the four openings. He pulled the lever down and waited anxiously, daring to not move his eyes in fear of missing that final pop. Although he knew it was coming, he always jumped and giggled at the surprise. Abraham found joy in so many things that you took for granted and it was refreshing to see. It grounded you. Made you appreciate the little things.

He gently placed the slices of toast on a saucer and took them back to the table with him.

“What’s today?” You asked, gathering containers of sliced fruit from the refrigerator.

“Toos-day?”

“Good job. That means we have speech and group music today.”

You had been pitching the idea of group music therapy for an adult group and you were grateful the department finally heard you out on something. It was successful for the children the department had been working with and had proven effects on stroke victims. Besides that, it seemed like something he actually enjoyed. Songs help him learn new words and the rhythm helped him with pronunciation.

Abraham sat at the kitchen table and watched you gather the juice and water for breakfast. He liked this part of the day, too. In such a short time, he was starting to feel real, like he belonged. Specifically, he belonged in this beautiful house with you.

“You ready to have a good day, Abraham?”

He hummed and took a crisp bite of toast. 

“Yes. A good day.”

Breakfast was the perfect solution to an already hectic morning. Abraham got his fill.

-;-;-

_ ♫ The itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout ♫  _

You watched from a back corner of the room as Abraham sang with his groupmates. Judith, the music therapist, had given them all wood claves to knock together and keep tempo. She played along on her keyboard and slowed the song down significantly to make it easier for them to sing and play along. Abraham struggled a bit at first but was pleased when he caught on. There was that joy again. That innocent delight that he had about all of the new things around and about him. He nearly knocked the optometrist over when you took him to get fitted for glasses. He smiled at himself in the mirror all day when your brother-in-law came over to give him a haircut. He even loved to marvel at his skin after you’d rub shea butter onto his arms and legs after a bath. 

_ ♫ Down came the rain and washed the spider out! ♫  _

Abraham didn’t quite understand why the spider was so persistent, but he could always ask you later. He looked back to you as they started the song again. Just to make sure you were still there, scribbling on your yellow paper or checking on your phone. He felt safer that way. If you were there, no one would taunt or tease him. Or hit him. Or cuff him to his chair. You smiled at him once you noticed him staring, and he smiled back.

_ “Okay, we’re going to speed up just a little. Let’s take it from the top, you guys…”  _

His attention returned to the song and the instrument in his hand as the tempo increased. The creak of the old wooden door as another body entered the room. Abraham immediately felt unsettled, but he dared not lose his concentration. It was only the dean, Dr. Young. He nodded at Judith as he walked past the group and found a seat near you. 

_ ♫ Out came the sun and it dried up all the rain ♫  _

They weren’t on pitch, or in any particular key, but that wasn’t the purpose of this therapy. Dr. Young smiled at the group before leaning towards you to speak.

“How have things been?”

“Well, good morning to you, too.” You scribbled a few more notes on your legal pad before looking up at him. “But things have been fine and he’s...adjusting. I’m working on my monthly report right now.”

“Great, great…” His voice trailed off, but you knew he wasn’t finished talking. You had an inkling that there was more to his current visit. Dr.Young focused on the group again. “I got word that the hospital wanted to file a complaint about you. For being combative with the nurse and physician...bring him home before the assigned time.”

You scoffed and thought about the rude red-head nurse.“They haven’t seen combative.”

“I understand that you feel strongly about helping these beings -”

“People,  _ John _ . They’re people. Once upon a time, there was one that looked like you...” You crossed your legs and gripped the pen in your head.

“Right.” He scratched at the gray hair in his dark beard. He had grown it to cover a long, ugly scar on his chin. “But that’s a relationship between facilities that the university would like to preserve.”

“Did you know that they drugged him?”

“He’s traumatized, I’m sure he needed to be medicated.”

“No, no - they drugged him to put him to sleep at night. I watched that nurse, that same nurse that wanted to file a complaint, plunge a syringe full of sedative into his arm.”

“He had a history of violent behavior. They were doing the best they could.”

“They were abusing him!” Your voice was now at an aggressive whisper. 

Abraham could feel the shift in the room. He looked over his shoulder again and noticed your very unhappy demeanor - a frustration he hadn’t seen since you took him from that place. The rest of the group kept singing around him as he gripped the claves tighter in his large hands. 

“His wrists were bruised from the cuffs they kept on him. They weren’t grooming him, they probably starved him before.”

“Well, I hope you have it all documented. Otherwise, it’s just speculation.” Dr. Young stood and buttoned his blazer. “We can’t afford to have you embarrass our department.”

“Embarrass?!”

The loud screech of Abraham’s chair against the floor stopped everything in the room. He stood up straight, rolling his shoulders back and puffing up his chest, and walked squarely towards Dr. Young.

“Okay?” Abraham checked your face for any signs of distress, ignoring Dr. Young who was cowering in fear. He racked his brain again. He had missed some words. “You...are you...okay?”

Dr. Young cleared his throat. “I’ll be...um...expecting your report soon.” He turned on his heels and shuffled out of the room as fast as he could. 

You stood to your feet and led Abraham back to his place in the circle. For you, that was a new behavior, but for Abraham, it was one of the few things he knew how to do well. Be a protector. He had been both a husband and a father before an unfortunate series of events took them all away from him. You had started to fill that void now. 

Judith handed you a pair of maracas while you were still standing next to Abraham. “How about you play with us the rest of the time? That might help Abraham concentrate a little better.”

“Is that okay with you, Abraham?” You stood in the middle of the circle and did a silly salsa dance with your instrument.

He tried to hold back his grin and failed. “Yes,” he nodded. “Okay.”

_ ♫ And the itsy-bitsy spider went up the spout again! ♫  _


	5. Chapter 5

_ Bzzzzzzz. _

Since Abraham stopped having nightmares, you had taken full advantage of both of you sleeping through the night. Your alarm couldn’t be going off already. It just wasn’t time.

_ Bzzzzzzzz. _

It had to be a phone call. You slowly opened your eyes, wincing at the morning sun. Vision still out of focus, you blindly reached for your cell phone and answered it without checking the caller I.D.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, doctor!”

It was your next-door neighbor, Nancy. Messy-ass, nosy-ass, Nancy. What could she possibly want?

“Good morning, Nancy. Everything okay?” You didn’t really care, but she was no stranger to locking herself out of the house - just for you to remind her of the spare key in her porch light. 

“Everything is fine with me, doll. I, umm...did you know your boyfriend was  _ hanging out _ in the backyard?”

“Boyfriend? Nancy, I don’t have…”  _ Oh, shit. Abraham _ . You rushed out of bed and down the hall nearly tripping over your own two feet. Sure enough, Abraham’s bed was empty and the clothes he had slept in were scattered on the floor. 

“You don’t have to be shy, honey. My husband and I shacked up for years before we got married. Best years of my life!”

“That’s not what this is,” you replied, jogging down the stairs. 

“Seems as if he may have  _ risen _ with the sun if you know what I mean. Honestly, I’m happy for you because they don’t make them like that anymore. I see why you haven’t left the house in a while.” 

Your kitchen was abnormally bright and the French doors leading to the backyard were wide open. There Abraham stood in  _ all _ of his glory. Stark naked, soaking up the morning sun. 

“Nancy, I am sooo sorry...”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, hon. I’m just enjoying the view.”

You had seen his body before when it was battered from the hospital, but this morning was different. He looked like a god. A statue chiseled from the finest ebony marble. The sun illuminated his form like the Lord himself had placed him on the ground. This must have been what Adam looked like. 

Abraham wasn’t sure what had come over him that morning. He desired to go outside to watch the sunrise but he knew you were tired and he didn’t want to wake you. He loved the air and the sun and he wanted to feel it against his skin - so he stripped. He saw the woman watching him from the other house, but he did not mind. There was no shame. He closed his eyes and let the sun charge him. 

While hanging up on Nancy, you rushed back into the house to grab a throw blanket from the couch. You tripped up again while heading back outside, breaking Abraham’s concentration. He turned to face you, smiling and semi-erect. 

“Morning!”

You tried your best to concentrate on his face to keep your eyes from wandering. “Morning, Abraham.” You walked towards him, blanket spread. “Maybe it’s time to come inside…” You grimaced at your own choice of words. “I think you have an audience.”

You nodded up to the house next door where Nancy still stood in her bedroom window, waving and winking at both of you. “Yeahh, we should go.” You pulled him closer to you, wrapping and tucking the blanket securely around his waist. Before you could break away, he took you into his arms, pressing you into his warm chest. 

You’re not sure if it was pheromones or hormones but you nearly melted into him. He smelled like outside, but in the best way possible. It was new, earthy, and pure like he was. Before you knew it, your hands had found their way up his bare back. 

He brought his forehead down to yours, still holding a gap-toothed smile. “I like how the sun feels. It feels good. Stay.” Even his breath was sweet for that early in the morning. “You feel good, too?” Abraham enjoyed your skin against his and your warm breath on his chest. He wasn’t sure why his phrase came out as a question and he feared that you would misunderstand. You felt as good to him as the sun did and he desired for you to know. Abraham inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of the oils in your hair.

“The sun does feel good.” You looked around your back patio at the expensive furniture you barely used and plants that were begging to be watered. “We’ll fix it up back here. But that’s a project for after therapy.” You pulled away from Abraham slowly and ushered him back inside. 

“Breakfast?” He asked, holding tight to the blanket around his waist.

“No, sir,” You picked up your phone and started to dial your sister’s number. Abraham poked out out his lip, triggering a small laugh from you. Where did he learn that from? “I think you need another shower, just to be safe. I’ll have breakfast ready when you’re done. Ok?”

“Ok…I’d like...pancakes.” 

“As you please, my friend.” You placed your phone and speaker and waited for Eden to pick up. In the meantime, you searched the cabinets for pancake mix. Abraham stood in the doorway for a moment and just watched you - still in your headscarf and loose pajamas. A beautiful sight. “I won’t burn them again. I promise.”

Abraham smiled and nodded. He didn’t mind them brown, or a little crispy like you made them last time. As long as you made them. He loosened the blanket and let it fall to the ground as he walked away. You nearly dropped the box of Hungry Jack on the floor before Eden  _ finally  _ decided to answer the phone.

“Hey boo!” Eden was nearly yelling over the chatter of the children as they got ready for school. “What’s up? You good?”

“Good morning, I’m absolutely awful.” You found a mixing bowl large enough and tossed it on the counter. Although faint, you could hear the shower start upstairs. “Girl, how about…”

“Hold on, hold on -  _ TJ, put your damn shoes on! Leave your sister alone! _ \- Okay, go ahead.”

“The man doesn’t like clothes, Eden.”

“Neither do my children.”

“Girl…” You plugged up your griddle and let it warm. “Nancy called me this morning because he was standing in the backyard butt-ass naked! He was just standing there in the sun like he was charging his battery or something…”

Eden paused and let the younger children shuffle out to catch the bus. “You know I have to ask…”

Two cups of dry mix. One cup of milk. Two eggs. A pinch of vanilla. All into the bowl.

“Don’t you do it...”

“I mean, are we talking shrimp or eggplant?”

“I’m not answering that. I don’t need you objectifying him. And can your kids hear you talking like that?” 

“Girl, I have teenagers. I’ve heard them say worse. But look at it this way, at least he didn’t do it in public. TJ’s ass used to strip in the grocery store.”

“I guess...”

“Where is he now since you’re telling his business?”

“In the shower.”

“Without your help?”

You scooped some mix onto the hot griddle and let it spread and sizzle.

“You think I baby him, don’t you?”

Eden sighed. You already knew her answer before she said a word. “I won’t say that, because he’s been doing well with you. But he’s definitely made you soft, sis...”

She was right, but you didn’t think that was a bad thing. Why not be soft? You thought you had found a good balance between teaching him skills and spoiling him. What would it hurt to make him pancakes every once in a while?

“Let me finish cooking. I’ll talk to you later.”

-;-;-

Abraham could feel himself improving every day. His speech and thoughts were clearer, he could help you around the house, and he was making friends.

Once a week, several groups of patients would get together to socialize. The therapists would teach them more songs, and how to play different games. You were heavily involved at first to help him get comfortable, but in the process, a personality emerged. He was funny, almost goofy, and was sure to make the people around him laugh. He shared jokes from the TV shows they all watched or silly versions of the songs they sang in therapy. Sometimes it even seemed like they spoke their own language. It was a culture forming before your very eyes and you were completely fascinated. 

Today, you watched him as you always did, between working on your papers and monthly reports. You were still a little conflicted from your morning run in, but this was the perfect opportunity to give both of you some space. He wasn’t quite as social on this particular day and you were sure to make a note of it. Instead of dancing and singing, he opted to work on a jigsaw puzzle. It was a sunset that reminded him of the first night he came home.

Most of his new friends left him alone, confident that he would join them when he was ready. But there was one young lady, newer to the program, that was tempted to join. Every week during these times, she would watch him, curious, but never sure how to approach. You noticed her and recognized the way she’d look at him. She was completely smitten. 

She was a short woman, smaller than both you and Abraham, and very pretty. She had round doe eyes that seemed to take up most of her face, deep brown skin, and black curly hair that was cropped very short.

Abraham looked up from his puzzle once he saw her shyly approaching. He smiled politely, the same way you had done for him many times, to make her feel comfortable. She smiled back. Abraham scrambled and lifted a piece of the puzzle up towards her.

“Would you like to help me?”

She nodded enthusiastically and carefully occupied the seat next to him. He generously sorted some puzzle pieces in front of her and continued to work. He concentrated on the corner pieces like you had taught him, and tried to complete the outside frame. 

She held one of the pieces in her small hand but was satisfied just watching him work. He didn’t mind her there, since she was quiet. Abraham’s focus was on the colors. Fluffy white clouds, and rich oranges and blues. Colors like your headscarf. Colors like your home. His home.

“I am Sarah…” Her voice was small and shaking, but she managed to finally speak to him. 

Up close, he could notice the scars on her face, not unlike his. They had healed well and didn’t distract from her gentle features. 

“I am Abraham.”

Sarah coyly gazed away from him and back towards the unfinished puzzle. She placed her piece in the frame and looked back up at Abraham for approval. Like him, she had lost her partner in the uprising and suffered at the hands of doctors and nurses. There was an energy about Abraham that made her feel safe. He was big, strong, and handsome. Sarah liked to admire him from afar - his gold glasses, thick beard, and wide smile. Her caseworker told her it was okay to talk to him. It was good practice. 

Abraham nodded at Sarah and handed her more pieces. They spent the rest of their time completing the puzzle in a comfortable, understood silence as new friends.   
  


-;-;-

Sarah shyly waved goodbye to Abraham as the two of you left for the day. You smiled at him as he hesitantly waved back.

“You make a new friend today?”

“Her name is Sarah.”

“What a coincidence.” Abraham gave you a confused look and you remembered you should probably explain. “In the Bible, there was a man named Abraham...and he had a wife named Sarah. Maybe you’ve met  _ your  _ Sarah.”

Abraham took a second to process your statement. He missed Red but was adjusting to life without her. He always wondered if he would ever be able to start over and have a new wife. And more children. But that wouldn’t be with Sarah. 

“No,” he said sternly. You were taken aback by his sharp tone but decided to let it go. He must not have been ready to talk about that yet. The ride home was mostly silent aside from the local R&B radio station. Occasionally, you’d turn a song up and sing along - hitting notes both good and bad. After you gave a botched performance of an Ari Lennox single, he finally cracked a smile.

Sarah was nice, but she didn’t give him warm feelings. 

She didn’t make him feel like the sun.

You did.


	6. Chapter 6

_ “They’re not real people.” _

_ “What makes you say that?” _

The blue lights of the television and your Macbook illuminated the dark living room. Abraham had laid down to sleep early, giving you some free time to work on your monthly reports for Dr.Young. You flipped between channels, mostly for background noise, until you landed on a CNN panel discussing the future of the tethered. There had been talk of getting them legal rights, including social security numbers, birth certificates, and the like. The panel was composed of two psychiatrists you were familiar with, but mostly politicians.

_ “A body cannot exist without a soul. Without consciousness. These beings do not have that - they are merely clones to real human counterparts. Nothing more than flesh,” A senator commented. From the way he spoke, you knew he had very few genuine relationships with people if it wasn’t for personal gain. He was in an intense back-and-forth with one of the psychiatrists.  _

_ “Are you suggesting that they don’t have souls?” _

_ “That’s exactly--” _

_ “I have to cut you off there. I’m sorry, but that’s ridiculous.” _

“Hell yeah, that’s ridiculous!” You shouted to the empty room. These conversations made your blood boil, especially now since you had been caring for Abraham. He was a good person and he deserved to be treated like one. Along with him being  _ tethered _ , Abraham was also a Black man - making him doubly feared in this country. Where would he go and how would he be treated when his stay with you eventually ended? Perhaps it would be safer for him if it didn’t end at all.

_ “They have no sense of right or wrong! No morals!” _

_ “You wouldn’t have morals either if you weren’t taught them. I’m not sure if you have them now.”  _

_ “Very mature, Doctor.” _

_ “If they’re not real people, then what are they? Just animals? Because it sounds like you’re trying to justify the poor treatment we’ve been seeing. They’re being killed, physically, emotionally, and sexually abused. Locked in cages and starved. And all of this was found within hospitals that were supposed to help! I can’t imagine what it’s like in the jails and prisons. People treat dogs better than this.” _

A tear formed in your eye as you thought about the cuts and bruises you found on Abraham the first night. He didn’t deserve any of the hurt or harm these people had caused him. You took a pull from your nearly empty wine glass as they continued.

_ “I’ve been above ground all of my life. Why do they deserve the same rights I have earned?” _

_ “You haven’t done a damn thing to earn those rights. They’re God given and they should be protected.” _

_ “Not in my country!” _

  
  


Frustrated, you slammed your computer shut and placed it on the table. You mumbled some obscenities to yourself as you popped up from the couch and grabbed your glass for a refill. 

_ “Oh shit!” _

Abraham stood in the shadows, eyes focused on the TV. A single finger pushed up the nose bridge of his glasses. 

“I scared you?” He asked in a low, raspy tone. It was clear he had just woken up.

“You did. You’re so quiet for such a large man. Did I wake you?” 

“No...I’m thirsty.”

Between the CNN panel and Abraham’s surprise appearance, your heart was nearly beating outside of your chest. He was still hyper-focused on the TV and the antics of the panel, so you muted it. “You don’t need to hear that. They’re not very nice.”

“Why?” Abraham asked as he followed you into the kitchen. He was at that stage where he asked ‘How?’ and ‘Why?’ for almost everything. You were annoyed at first, but curiosity was a good sign. It meant he was actively trying to learn and understand.

“Some people don’t care about other people.” You filled your glass with a cheap red wine Eden had gifted you for Christmas the previous year.

“About people...like me.”

You nodded and took a sip. Abraham was becoming more and more conscious of his “otherness”. As much as you tried to protect him from outside opinions, he heard what they would say on the news and could read headlines in newspapers when the two of you would grocery shop. He wasn’t entirely sure that he would be accepted outside of your home.

“Do you care?” He walked around and grabbed a cup from the cabinet. It was his favorite, a color-changing tumbler you got for free on campus. 

“Of course I care…”

“About me?”

“About you especially. Do you care about me?” You’re not sure what drove you to ask him but he answered swiftly.

“Yes. I do.”

Abraham found his way beside you and took the wine bottle in his hands, squinting as he tried to read the small print on the label. 

“I want this...what is it?”

You realized this was the first time he had seen you with alcohol. “Wine. It’s um...like grape juice but alcoholic. Fermented. Which means it’s spoiled but..uh..in a good way?”

He lifted his brow in confusion. You took the bottle from him and removed the cork. He held his cup for you to pour into.

“Abraham, are you sure? It might make you feel...different. Maybe nice, but different.”

“Do you feel  _ nice _ ?”

“Well, yeah. I guess.”

“I want to feel  _ nice _ , too.” He smiled in a way that was almost mischievous as he pushed the cup into your face.

“Just a little bit, okay?” There was no way you were about to let this man get drunk on your watch. No way. “Too much might be bad.”

“Mm-hm,” he affirmed, still grinning. “A little bit. Please.”

Abraham had noticed the wine bottles in the trash before - the ones you had finished off on nights you worked late. He didn’t know what kind of beverage it was, but he knew you liked it. And he wanted to like what you liked. He was learning you as you were learning him, taking note of the things he did that made you smile and laugh. Even the things you didn’t like so much, like those people on TV.

“Take small sips,” you warned as you filled his cup halfway and topped off your own. He lifted the cup to his nose and sniffed. “If you drink too much too fast, it can make you dizzy.”

He was on your heels again as you walked back into the living room and took a seat close beside you on the couch. His bare legs slightly grazed against yours. The panel was over and the nightly news played on a loop. Abraham looked down at the cup in his hand, nervous to take his first drink.

“It’s okay if you don’t want it.” You immediately started to regret your decision. He was a grown man and it was within his rights to at least have a taste. Right? But you absolutely could not include this in your notes. It seemed like you were having more and more moments with him that were off the record. 

“No. I want it.” He held the cup to his lips and took a small sip, just like you said. He smacked his lips at the interesting taste. But he liked it. “It’s good.”

You chuckled softly to yourself. “Yeah, I think so too.” As clean as your house was, you had a hard time keeping your notes organized. You would scribble on almost anything you could get your hands on, including envelopes and grocery recipes and it was all scattered on the table and floor. “Did you sleep well, Abe?” You started to pick up the papers and stuff them into an accordion folder. 

“Yes...” Abraham heard you yelling at the TV. You were usually quieter, but he didn’t mind waking up to your voice no matter how angry. Some nights he wished he could crawl into bed next to you and sleep much better. There was always space.

You pulled up the TV menu while sipping your wine. “As much as I pay for cable and there’s never anything on…” Finally, you settled on an old Lifetime movie. A corny romance, just for background noise. You opened your laptop again and returned to your report.

“You are working?”

“As always.” You typed away. Abraham made you happy. He was progressing beautifully and learning so much, but the obligations of work weren’t quite as exciting. 

“It’s too much.”

“What is? The wine?”

“Your work. It’s too much and you don’t like it.”

When you looked up at Abraham he was focused on the TV. The movie showed a couple in the throes of an intense make-out session. He could count on one hand the number of times he kissed Red, but it never looked like that. The more he learned, the more he realized that their relationship was based on necessity. Not passion. Maybe not even love. 

You felt a bit embarrassed. Ever since the hospital went through with their complaint, most of your time was spent documenting every little thing. The department and college wanted as thorough notes as possible to ensure that their asses were covered.

“You’re right, Abraham. Fuck this!” You closed your laptop again and placed it on the table. “I need a break.”

“Yeah.  _ Fuck _ that.”

“Maybe I should stop swearing so much,” you laughed. You watched as Abraham finished what was left in his cup but the TV still had his attention. It was the ending parts of a highly edited sex scene that merged into the couple cuddling together in bed. It struck you that most of his needs were being met, except for a very personal one.

Abraham sighed and slumped his shoulders. His body ached for affection he’d never really had. “I don’t remember...” His voice cracked a little. The man on screen ran his fingers through the woman’s hair and they shared a heavy kiss. “I don’t remember what that feels like…”

You watched the screen with him. “Do you understand love, Abraham?”

“Maybe…Love is...caring. Feeling. Helping.”

Abraham’s eyes met yours and you froze. He had never looked at you that way before. It was desiring, but not lustful. Almost pleading, but still very tender and sincere. For several moments you were caught up in his gaze and the way the light from the TV bounced against his brown skin. This was a part of the job you had failed to consider and didn’t know how to handle. There was a growing attraction that you had to get a grasp of. If not, it could ruin Abraham’s progress and your career. 

Your wine glass started to tremble in your hands as his fingers crept around your knee.

  
  


“Can I have more?”

“ _ More?”  _ Your brain stuttered for a moment. What did he want more of? More of  _ you _ ? Abraham looked down at his empty cup and then to you. “ _ Oh _ , wine. Yeah, yeah, of course.”

You jumped up from the couch, brain still fuzzed, and went to grab the bottle from the kitchen. Abraham’s eyes seemed to follow your every move - the way you poured into his cup, a little bit heavier than before, and the slight jiggle of your thighs as you sat crossed-legged on the couch. He scooted closer to you and let his knee knock against yours. There was a growing comfort between the two of you that you didn’t necessarily mind, but it was clear you need to be careful and not let it get out of hand. You flipped through the channels again until you landed on something safe and nonsexual. Abraham’s focus wavered back to you. 

“Are you done working?” He questioned.

“For tonight.” You watched him take a small sip from his cup. “How do you feel?”

“My chest is warm and my brain feels funny.”

“That’s called being  _ buzzed _ .”

“Buzzed?”

“Mmhm. Like a little bee, buzzing around in your head!” You pressed your thumb and index finger together and floated your hand around in the air like the flying insect. He giggled as you buzzed him in the ear, on his neck, and in his hair. Feeling silly from the wine, he played along and swatted at your hand.

“I’ll get you bee!”

Before your imaginary bee could reach his ear again, Abraham caught you firmly by the wrist. He watched your fingers as they relaxed in defeat.

“Aww man! You got me...”

His hand slowly slid upward, allowing his thumb to slip into your palm. He applied gentle pressure, focused on the way the squishy flesh moved. No words were shared, but his tenderness at that moment spoke multitudes. Your breath hitched as he lifted your hand to his mouth gave your palm the softest kiss. 

“Got you…”


	7. Chapter 7

It was no secret that the fabric of society had changed significantly after the tethered uprising. The holiday season was no exception. Years ago, it was nearly impossible to travel across the country without major traffic jams, but now the roads were virtually empty. There were no parades and fewer decorations. People didn’t go to each other like they used to. Families were much smaller and would make place settings and extra servings of pie to memorialize their fallen members. Other families fought through their pain and tried to remain festive in spite of the darker world. 

Families like yours. 

With all of the hustle and bustle that came with taking care of Abraham, you forgot it was your turn to host Thanksgiving dinner. Eden reminded you with a week’s time to spare, and you had to kick it into high gear. Abraham got a lesson like none other when the two of you deep-cleaned your house from top to bottom. He was eager, as always, to do whatever you asked of him. Taking orders was something he was used to. For you, it was good to finally have someone around to do the heavy lifting. With the combined effort, the two of you had managed to rearrange some furniture in the living room and put the leaf in your dining room table. 

By Monday, the final headcount was confirmed and by Tuesday the menu was set in stone. You’d been eating alongside Abraham for so long that you’d lost your taste for meat and didn’t care to cook it. For that reason, your brother-in-law volunteered to smoke a turkey, and your father planned to bring his signature barbeque ribs. It was an unconventional Thanksgiving dish, but it was his own personal tradition (and telling him no just wasn’t an option). 

Come Wednesday evening, you were in a full blown panic. Family members that were bringing key dishes refused to come because you were housing “one of those devils” and your fair-weather aunt and uncle decided they’d tag along with your parents last minute. They had no intention of bringing anything except for themselves and their three grandchildren. As always, you were left to pick up the slack. Luckily, Abraham was your right-hand man through it all. In a strange game of role reversal, he was now the one keeping you calm and collected when a woman snatched the last bag of brown sugar from your grocery basket. Although it was a tedious task, he helped you peel potatoes and smash garlic cloves. Sweat beaded on the tip of his nose when checked on your baking casseroles. You were thankful for his presence. And after a long day, he was thankful for the smile in your eyes. That let him know that you were still there. You were still happy.

When Abraham woke up Thursday morning, you were still banging around in the kitchen. He doubted you had slept at all. Before returning to your side, he took a warm shower and made sure to rub some of your sweet-smelling oils on his hair and beard. He dressed in an outfit he had picked on his own - dark blue jeans and a golden turtleneck sweater that made him look like the sun. One more check of himself in the mirror and he made his way to you.

The mix of scents in the air was new to Abraham, but the combination made him feel warm. He recognized the garlic immediately because some of it still lingered on his fingers, but you had done much more work since then. It seemed you were so busy toiling over a boiling pot that you didn’t notice him come in.  _ Busy and beautiful _ , he thought. Your long crimson wrap dress billowed every time you moved. You had managed to slick your hair back into a neat bun to keep it out of your way for the day and even apply the slightest bit of make-up. Abraham liked the extra shine on your lips and the shimmer on your cheekbones.

“ _ Good morning, Abraham _ …”

He wasn’t as slick or quiet as he thought. You stopped stirring for a moment to share a smile with him. 

“Good morning…handshake or hug?” Since the night his lips tenderly graced your palm, you decided it was a good time to draw clear boundaries for affection. So each morning and each evening, one of you would ask. He never wanted a handshake, but he wouldn’t turn it down if that’s what you chose.

“You know what? I think I need a hug today.” Cooking was stressful, but you knew the day would be more hectic as your family arrived. Abraham quickly closed the space between the two of you and took you into his arms. There was something in his touch that eased you. Somewhere, deep down, there was a spark and the small kindling for a flame. But you couldn’t fan that fire. Not just yet. He gave you a slight squeeze before pulling away. “Ooh, that was a good one. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You look very pretty…” He looked down at you again, fascinated by the warm color of the cotton dress against your skin. The strength of his gaze made your cheeks flush with heat.

“Thanks. You look very handsome yourself...”

Abraham couldn’t hide his smile if he tried. And neither could you. “Thank you. Do you need help?”

You sighed and turned the stove eyes down to a simmer. “Unless you can time travel and make it tomorrow, I don’t think so. I’m ready to get this over with.”

  
  
  


Abraham would shift the earth for you if he was strong enough. But despite what most people thought of him, he was neither supernatural nor subhuman. He wasn’t wicked or evil. During his time underground, he was misled and ill informed. He was taught that the people above him were ungrateful and selfish and didn’t deserve their privileged lives. And he would have continued to believe that if it wasn’t for you.

-;-;-

The first knock on your door came at a quarter after one. You wanted lunch to start at noon, but that was  _ very _ wishful thinking. Abraham understood a little bit of what was happening. He had watched a few television specials and you had explained it to him the best you could. The origin of the holiday wasn’t...ideal...but people used it as an excuse to eat and fellowship.

Abraham followed you to the door. You slicked your hair back once last time before pulling it open.

“Boogie!”

“Heyy, oh!” Before you had time to complete your greeting and cringe at your childhood nickname, your Aunt Judy had enveloped you in a very tight and very uncomfortable hug. The strong smell of her perfume was making you dizzy and you could have sworn you heard one of your ribs crack. You were so distracted you didn’t even notice your uncle and cousins come in. You could also hear your parents in the distance, arguing about who would get what out of the car. “Hi Auntie, how are you?”

“I’m good, baby! You look so pretty. Lookin’ just like your grandma… _ Nelson! _ ”

“I’m right here, Judy. Damn!” Uncle Nelson stood behind her, a case of Natural Light in one hand and the shirt collar of a four-year-old boy in the other. Two other children of similar age stood next to him. “Dr. Boogie! Look at you girl!”

“Hey Unc…” You felt Abraham move closer behind you and place a hand on your shoulder.

Your aunt, always a fast one, immediately smiled and adjusted her posture. “And who is this fine young man? Your mother didn’t tell me you were dating.”

“This is my...friend, Abraham. Abraham, this is my Aunt Judy and Uncle Nelson. Nelson and my dad are brothers.” Abraham smiled and eagerly stuck out his hand for your relatives to shake. Your uncle let go of his grandson long enough to take it. “Y’all come on in and get settled.”

-;-;-

You could tell Abraham was nervous by the way he hovered over you in the kitchen. To your surprise, some extra cousins decided to pop up at the promise of a hot meal. This meant you had to make some extra room and warm up a little more food. Due to his experience with doctors, Abraham was somewhat used to unfamiliar people, but this was different. These were  _ your _ people. He didn’t know much about extended family and thought it was interesting how you all were connected. It was fun how Eden’s children shared facial features with their distant cousins. Or how your dad and uncle shared the same dry, wheezing laugh. For the first time, he was concerned with making a good impression. Your mother had been nice enough, opting for a hug instead of the handshake he offered. Like both you and Eden, she had a very warm smile. Your father, on the other hand, seemed to be intentionally cold towards him. Like Eden, he was doubtful you could do much to help Abraham. Today was the day to prove them both wrong.

“Can I help?” Abraham pulled at the collar of his sweater. All of a sudden, the turtleneck wasn’t a good idea. He was burning up. You laughed to yourself and placed a final dish in the buffet line.

“I got it, Abe. Here, sit. Calm down.” You pulled out a chair at your kitchen table and nearly forced him into a seat. Noticing the sweat on his forehead, you started to fan him with a paper plate. “You okay?”

He nodded and ran his sweaty palms over his jeans. 

_ “Boogie!”  _ You rolled your eyes and Eden walked in the kitchen, the sound of her boots echoing across the tile floor. “My babies are hungry. Is the food done? And what’s wrong with Abraham?”

“Just a little worked up, that’s all. And the food is ready.”

“Shouldn’t have put him in that hot ass turtleneck.”

  
Abraham looked up at you, then away shyly. “I picked this myself.”

“ _ Oh _ ...I’m sorry, Abraham. It’s a lovely sweater! You look very handsome.”

You shot Eden a sharp look. “Could you get everyone, please? No sense in waiting any longer.”

Eden carefully stepped out of the room to wrangle everyone together. Abraham looked down at his sweater and ran his fingers over the corded pattern.

“I should change?”

“Noo, don’t listen to her. You stay just the way you are.”

-;-;-

After a battle over the turkey wishbone, the last beer, and the first slice of your mother’s caramel cake, everyone was finally settled and eating. Except for you. Between rewarming food and making additional place settings you had lost your appetite. The smell of sweet potatoes was starting to make you nauseous. Unfortunately, your Aunt Judy was the first to notice.

“Boogie, why you not eating? You sick?”

“Pregnant?” Uncle Nelson shot a loaded look at Abraham, who was seated next to you. You were thankful he was far too deep into his own plate to notice the conversation.

“Now you know good and damn well…” You felt your parents' eyes on you before you could finish your statement. “I’ll eat in a few, Unc. Just wanted to make sure everyone was good.”

Your mother sighed and took a long sip of tea to wash down her green bean casserole.

“I think it’s that time. Let’s go around the table and say what we’re all thankful for!”

You and Eden both groaned. She nudged at your father to go first.

“Baby, what are you thankful for?”

“Well,” he started. “I’m thankful for you, choosing to be my wife almost 43 years ago. I’m thankful for our beautiful daughters. And our grandchildren. Hopefully we’ll get a few more before I leave this earth...”

Eden laughed and leaned into her husband, Troy. “That’s beautiful Daddy, but I’m closing up shop.”

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

You took a beat to pour yourself a glass of water and deflect his suggestion. “Anyway. Who’s next?”

“How about Gerald…”

Gerald was one of the cousins that decided to make a surprise appearance. He had been cordial enough, but hadn’t said much to you since he’d arrived. You had a hunch of what his problem might be, but you pushed it to the back of your mind to make the day easier.

“Huh?” Gerald moved mashed potatoes around on his plate, causing a less than pleasant scraping noise.

“What are you thankful for, Gerald?”

He paused for a moment and let his eyes slowly bounce around the room until they landed on you. His voice was low, but it held some anger. “ _ I’m _ thankful...for my life.”

“That’s great ---”

“I’ve lost some friends, Boogie. Lost ‘em a couple of summers ago…”

It was starting. You glanced at Abraham, who was now alert and locked into Gerald.

  
“I’m sorry to hear that, Gerald.”

“Sorry won’t bring them back. Feeding a killer won’t bring them back.”

“Hate won’t bring them back either.”

“You think you hot shit now? Think you some saint because you opened your home to a monster.”

You heard Abraham shift and stretched your arm over his torso. He was angry for you, and less for himself. People wouldn’t like him, it was inevitable. But you had done nothing but good for him and others.

“You really came in  _ my _ house,  _ uninvited  _ at that, had a free meal, and you  _ still _ have the nerve to be disrespectful?”

“Is that your attack dog? You gon’ sic him on me?”

“You can leave when you’re ready, Gerald.”

Your aunt and uncle protested, but Eden was ready to fight on your behalf, causing a riff between her and Gerald. Your father cleared his throat and tried to settle the room again. “That’s enough! Gerald, if you’re going to sit here and eat, the least you could do is be respectful of her home.”

“Whatever…”

“Boy, don’t ‘whatever’ me. I’ll still pull this belt off and whoop your ass!”

“OKAY! Let’s um, let’s continue. Who wants to go next?” Your mother rubbed her angry husband’s back as the rest of the table took their turns. 

Besides you, there was one other person left.

  
  


“Abraham, what about you? Do you have anything you’re thankful for?”

“Yes…” Abraham’s eyes darted to you and he smiled softly. “I am thankful for kindness. Kindness that I did not deserve. I am thankful for a home. And...and for Boogie.”

The table erupted in a scatter of giggles, but Abraham’s warm gaze stayed on you. 

You smiled and placed your hand on top of his. “Boogie is thankful for you, too.”


	8. Chapter 8

After Thanksgiving, you quickly realized your cousin Gerald wasn’t the only one that had an issue with you taking care of Abraham. Subliminal rants popped up on Facebook and anti-tethered Twitter threads and YouTube videos were forwarded to your email. That was enough to make you lose your holiday spirit. So, in lieu of further family celebrations, you opted to make a private dinner for Christmas. Abraham liked the members of your family that liked him but he didn’t mind spending time with you alone.

Despite your festive upbringing, you had grown disenchanted with decorating for Christmas. Growing up your mother made the first Sunday after Thanksgiving “Family Decorating Day”. She’d make sticky buns and hot cider, your dad would play his favorite holiday tune, and Eden would complain until the two of you had decked every corner of the house with Christmas cheer. You didn’t decorate much once you started living on your own, aside from maybe a wreath or small tree. After the tethered, there wasn’t much more cheer to spread around.

  
  


The same as other holidays, public Christmas celebrations had become extremely diluted, but there was still one neighborhood in the hills that decorated heavily. You drove Abraham around to give him a feel for the season and the bones of what once was. Your childhood was filled with sights like these. Street after street of houses wrapped in strings of lights, sometimes blinking and imitating icicles. Inflated snowmen and reindeer galore. 

Abraham was obsessed.

He talked about the lights for days after that one evening and asked why you didn’t have any hanging from your gutters or have a big tree in the front window of your house. You weren’t enthused about it but after a lot of begging and whining, you decided to compromise with him. A late-night trip to Target only two days before Christmas led to you purchasing a floor model tree that had seen better days. You let him pick out whatever ornaments and decorations he wanted, no matter how bright or bizarre. None of them matched or coordinated. Righteously, it was all tacky, but you wouldn’t dare tell him that. He approached decorating the tree with a childlike sense of wonder, carefully wrapping the metallic tinsel around the thin branches and each ornament was meticulously and perfectly placed. He’d take breaks to smile at you and sip warm apple cider you had brewed, along with fresh sticky buns.

Abraham had a vision for the tree that you were much too jaded to see, and you were almost embarrassed that you had doubted his choices. The result was overwhelmingly bright, but it was a reflection of Abraham’s happiness. It was dominated by yellow, which had become Abraham’s favorite color, mixed with traditional reds and greens. 

“Do you like it?” He asked. “Is it pretty?”

You stared at his face, illuminated by the lights. Or maybe the lights reflected him. At that moment, your heart lightened. The heaviness in your shoulders subsided and for that very brief time, things felt right.

“I love it, Abraham. It’s beautiful.”

With morning came a new attitude. A happier one. You had popped up at the crack of dawn, surprisingly well-rested and chipper. You checked on Abraham who was still sound asleep, tucked in and snoring softly. You softly hummed “Jingle Bells” as you tipped downstairs and warmed up a leftover sticky bun. When you went to take your breakfast in the living room, you noticed a small box under the Christmas tree. It hadn’t been there before you went to bed. You looked around the room and took another bite of your pastry before picking it up. It was wrapped somewhat neatly in festive paper decked with small snowflakes. The tag was addressed to you. From Abraham. 

You smiled and sat down to unwrap your unexpected gift. Carefully, you peeled back the paper to reveal the brown kraft box. You shook it. It rattled. A smile crept on your face as you lifted the lid. On top of white cotton cushioning, sat a stack of beaded bracelets. They were summer-camp-esque, likely a craft the group had done in an art class. The beads were round, in assorted colors and patterns. On one of the bracelets, black beads with white letters spelled out your name. Another spelled out his. Tears welled in your eyes as you stretched the elastic to roll all three bracelets onto your wrist. 

The sound of a flushing toilet and running water let you know that someone upstairs was awake. You turned around once you heard the stairs creaking beneath his feet. Abraham slid his glasses on as he reached the bottom and greeted you with that gap-toothed smile that was beginning to melt your heart.

“Merry Christmas, Boogie.”

-;-;-

It had been business as usual since the major holiday season passed over. Abraham didn’t want to go back to his regular therapy sessions, evident by his newfound attitude. He’d often sit in silence for complete sessions, refusing to speak or engage at all, especially if you weren’t present. As he advanced, your superiors suggested that you remove yourself from his therapy little by little. At their insistence, he was now beginning solo therapy sessions without you monitoring and taking notes in the background. He didn’t like it at first. He didn’t like it because he didn’t trust them. Abraham preferred the security of you being there, even if you were supposed to be working. They were also back on your case about documentation because of Abraham’s sudden change in behavior. New goals had been set for all of the ‘tethered’ in the program and they were pushing for him to be in a new group facility by the summer. Abraham didn’t like that idea. And, honestly, you didn’t care much for it either.

Fifteen minutes passed before Abraham said a word in his current therapy session. 

“How are your living arrangements, Abraham? Are they good?” 

Abraham couldn’t remember this doctor’s name and he didn’t care. She was a petite woman, with salt and pepper hair that was cut into a sharp bob. She didn’t smile like you. Her face was always very stern.

“Yes,” Abraham nodded. “I like my home.”

“That’s wonderful. What do you like about your home?”

Abraham smiled and thought about that morning. Your alarm was set well before his, but somehow he would always catch you at the bathroom. He’d stand in the doorway and shrug, knowing that he did it on purpose, every morning, just to watch you get ready. You were a creature of habit and Abraham had learned your routine better than his own. He couldn’t start his day until he saw you smile and shake your head at him in the mirror. Some mornings he would let you freshen up his haircut or apply a clay mask to wear while you finished getting dressed. Mornings were happy. They were pleasant. They were…

“Bright. Home is bright.”

The doctor’s eyebrows shot up and she scribbled on her notepad.

  
“Can you say more to that? What makes it bright?”

“There is no darkness,” he replied. The doctor settled in her chair, hoping Abraham would expand his answer. He didn’t. He was tired of talking, but truthfully he wasn’t exactly sure he could articulate much past that. His previous life was full of darkness and anger. But on this side with you? He was able to feel sunlight every day. He could eat fresh food and drink wine. And when darkness did come, he could gingerly kiss your hands and feel safe again. In fact, he wished he could do that now.

“Well, I’m very happy that you are in a place that you like. Some of your friends here are starting to live on their own. With a little help from us, but they’re mostly independent and seem to be doing well. Do you think that’s something you’d like to do?”

Abraham shook his head.

“No?”

“No. I don’t want to leave.” His plan was to stay forever if he could. When he was locked inside the gray walls of the hospital before, he could think of many places he would rather be. But he couldn’t have imagined being with you in his wildest dreams. He was meant to be in that house with you, and he planned to do whatever it took to stay.

“But you do understand that independence is our goal here?”

“Yes.”

“Eventually, you  _ will _ have to move on.”

“No.” Abraham was starting to become annoyed. There was nothing for him beyond you. 

“Abraham, I get that you may be attached to your caretaker--”

“My friend,” Abraham interjected. “She is my friend.”

  
“And I’m sure she’s been a very helpful friend…” The doctor pondered for a moment and watched Abraham tense in his seat. “Abraham, I want you to know that this is a safe place and you can be completely truthful here without repercussions.” Abraham folded his hands in his lap and looked at her strangely. “There’s a new bruise on your hand...”

“No…” Abraham shook his head, furious at what she was suggesting. “No! She doesn’t hurt me. She’s my friend.”

“Abraham, you can be honest here. We’ve seen that it’s a common experience --”

“No!” The volume of Abraham’s voice even took him off guard. He sat still and rubbed small circles on his thighs. He tried to settle his breathing like you had shown him many times before.

The doctor was a bit shaken by Abraham’s yelling. She had been warned about him many times, that he was known to be violent, although she’d never seen it for herself. They were all curious about your methods and why they had been working so well, but perhaps she pressed too much.

“I think that’s good for today, Abraham.”

“I can go?”

“Yes. You can go.”

Abraham could have snatched the door from his hinges, but he remembered where he was and made sure to open the door gently. His footsteps were both fast and heavy in the hallway until he found you, typing notes on your laptop, oblivious to what they asked him behind closed doors.

“Are we done? Can we go home?”

It had been a long time since you’d seen Abraham that flustered. You closed your laptop and tried to read his expression. Something in therapy had clearly upset him.

“Sure, yeah. You don’t want to do down to the recreation room? Sarah hasn’t seen you in a while and I think they’re decorating for the Valentine’s Day dance tonight.”

“I want to be with you. I want to go home.”

“Okay, okay…” You nodded lightly as you packed your things.

“How about we go for a walk? There’s a McDonald’s up the street a couple of blocks. We can get a snack. Is that okay?”

Abraham agreed and reached for your hand as you situated your tote bag onto your shoulder. The tension eased in his shoulders as his palm and fingers grazed your beaded bracelets and cuffed around your hands. Aware of how inappropriate the two of you probably looked, you moved quickly to get out of the building. He matched your slow pace on the walk and would grip your hand tighter at the sight of a speeding car. 

Fast food was usually reserved as a treat on lazy days, but it was clear Abraham wasn’t in the best mood and that was nothing a little soft serve and hot french fries couldn’t fix. You ordered a large fry to share, a couple of small sodas, Oreo McFlurry for you, and a caramel sundae for him. 

He picked a booth facing the busy street so he could people watch and avoid talking about his day.

You dipped a fry in your McFlurry and watched his eyes nervously float around the restaurant.

“What you talked about in therapy is your business, so we don’t have to talk about that. What we  _ can _ talk about is the dance tonight. Are you excited? I bet it’s gonna be fun.”

Abraham shrugged and mirrored your actions by dipping a fry into his sundae. His eyes widened with delight and he stuffed his mouth with as many fries as he could.

“What is Valentine’s Day for? Are there gifts?”

“Sometimes,” you laughed. “If you really like someone you may give them a gift to show that you care about them. It’s just a day to show love to our friends or our partners.”

“Are you my friend?”

“Of course I am.”

Abraham looked at the bruise on his hand and pressed it against the cold ice cream cup.

“They think you hurt me. I told her...I told her you are my friend and you wouldn’t do that. I’m scared they will take me away from you.”

Sadness swept over Abraham and his eyes lowered to a stain on the table. The last thing Abraham wanted was to be in another gray room, and that’s exactly what the group home would look like. Something had to give.

“Abraham…” You reached across the table and placed your hand atop his, rubbing the cold condensation away from his skin. “Don’t worry about that. I got you. I promise.”


	9. Chapter 9

Evening came quickly, but much to your dismay, Abraham hadn’t cheered up much. When the time came, he dragged his feet to get bathed and dressed. He was ornery about what clothes he would wear and how to brush his hair and beard. You couldn’t even use your typical goofy tactics to get him to crack a smile. He wasn’t in the mood this time around, evident by the silent car ride. Just before entering the venue, you checked his outfit one last time for wrinkles or imperfections.

“Now, where did all this lint come from?” 

Abraham huffed and puffed as you pulled a small lint roller from your purse and rolled it over the pink sweater he had finally settled on. It was a hand-me-down from your brother-in-law that hung in the back of his closet, but once Abraham saw the pink gloss on your lips, he knew it was the right one. You had stuck it in the dryer to knock out the wrinkles and old smell while Abraham ironed his pants and contemplated the day. Maybe they were right. Could it be time to leave you? Was he prepared enough to live on his own? Perhaps he needed to take more control.

“I’m not a baby…” He blurted, snatching his arm away from you. 

You pursed your lips in frustration and forced the lint roller into his hands.

“Then you do it. I’m not about to fight with you.”

Abraham tore off the old adhesive sheet and dumped it in a nearby trash can. You leaned against the stair railings and toyed with the hem of your skirt as he continued, unsuccessfully. A few familiar made their way into the building and you smiled politely as they passed. Abraham was less than mastery with the lint roller and it was killing you to watch him struggle with something so simple.

“Missed a spot.” You gently chided. Abraham cut his eyes at you before surveying his shirt again. “Just...just give it here.”

“No. I can do it.”

“Abraham…”

“I can do it.” Abraham ran the roller over his body one last time before handing it back to you. He spread out his arms and turned several times. “See?”

“Yeah, I see.” Before you could settle your purse on your shoulder, Abraham had already made his way to the door. It took you several hurried steps to catch up with his long stride in the hallway. “Listen, I know you haven’t had the best day but have fun tonight, please.”

Abraham slowed his pace and looked down at you. You were right and it made no sense to take his frustration out on you, especially when you were the person he wanted to be with most. 

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been nice.”

“Not particularly. But I get it. I don’t feel like being nice all the time either.”

He smiled before he realized it and reached to pull a small piece of lint that had found its way to your hair.

“Missed a spot…”

-;-;-

The department had asked you to be on the committee for the dance but you passed on the opportunity. You couldn’t remember the last time you had genuinely celebrated Valentine’s Day and figured the suburban mom crowd and undergraduate interns would be way more apt to handle it. You were right. 

It was like entering a portal where Cupid himself had dumped rejected decor. Huge paper hearts dangled from the ceiling, not to be outdone by the tassels and banners that stretched across each wall. It was bright and campy, which meant that Abraham loved every inch of it. It seemed like the committee had thought of everything - an illuminated dance floor complete with a live band playing cheesy love songs, even little carnival games with stuffed animals or sweets as prizes. It’s everything your adolescent heart would have dreamed of and your adult heart wasn’t quite ready to admit that she liked.

Abraham tugged at the sleeves of his sweater as his eyes took in the full scene. All of his friends and his doctors (even the ones you didn’t like) were there. He nodded his head as the band started an upbeat doo-wop tune and looked to you for guidance.

You simply smiled and shrugged your shoulders. These were his peers and his domain, it was only right that you fall back and allow him more freedom. 

“I’m following you this time,” you whispered while gesturing towards the active room. “We can do whatever you want.”

For a brief minute, you thought Abraham might have been overwhelmed or overstimulated. There was a lot going on - the loud music, the chattering people, the garish decor. But your mind quickly changed as he grinned and pulled you to the row of themed carnival games. To make things easier on himself, he decided to knock them out in order. 

First in line was the soda toss, followed by a rented whack-a-mole, and several other toss-and-knockdown games, all of which he excelled at. By the end of the game line, your hands were loaded down with three glass bottle Cokes, cotton candy, a caramel apple, half a pound cake, and a plush banana. 

“One more!” He insisted, topping your full hands with a small stuffed heart. You groaned and slumped your shoulders dramatically.

“I don’t think I can carry any more. How about you go dance while I put these in the car?”

Abraham looked around the room, from the smiling faces of his peers to the stoic faces of the professionals. If Valentine’s Day was about showing love, then naturally he would want to dance with you. Play games with you. Drink punch, eat cookies...with you.

“No,” he replied. “I’ll go with you.”

“I’m a big girl, Abraham. I got it.” You adjusted once again to reach for your car keys. “You won’t even know I’m gone.”

You nodded towards a group of regulars, including Sarah, who were waving Abraham over.

“They’re waiting on you. Go, I’ll be right back.”

Before he could contest again, you had already turned on your heels and were heading straight for the door. He had half a mind to run behind you but instead decided to take your advice. He approached his group of friends slowly and was met with warm smiles and handshakes. Sarah’s eyes never left his form as the group chatted for a moment about the pretty decorations and the fun games. In the middle of their conversation, the band started up a ballad. Some of them who were newly coupled exited to the dancefloor hand-in-hand. This left Abraham and Sarah awkwardly alone.

For the first time that night, he took the time to look at her. Her small stature always made her look youthful and innocent, especially now with a small bow pinned amongst her growing curls. She smiled shyly up at Abraham like she did every time she saw him. Always enamored by how much of a man he was. 

“Would you…” She started, clearing her throat for clarity. “Dance? Would you like to dance?”

Abraham’s eyes quickly searched the room until they landed on you, chatting it up with your coworkers over cookies that were way too sweet. His gaze finally landed back on Sarah who was waiting patiently for his answer.

“I don’t think I know how.”

“The slow dance is easy! I’ll teach you.”

Sarah pulled Abraham to the dance floor. He gulped as she placed his hands around her waist and stood on her tip-toes to run her fingers across his shoulders. She led them in a sway - a slow rock from side-to-side, somewhat on beat with the music.

“Like that. Easy, right?”

“Yes. Very easy.”

They rocked in silence, exchanging soft smiles and flirty glances until the band faded out. They paused for a beat until a new slow song started. Abraham started to rock again, but Sarah stopped him. She took inventory of the room, looking for you especially. Satisfied that you were properly distracted, she began to pull Abraham towards a back exit. 

“Come with me. I want to talk to you.”

Abraham stopped and brushed her hands away.

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Just for a short time, Abraham. Sit with me.”

As they stood and contemplated, the room grew louder and more crowded. Annoyed with the noise, he obliged to Sarah’s request and followed her to a courtyard outside. The air was cool and a welcome contrast from the thick air inside the venue. He took deep breaths, making sure to savor the fresh night air.

“I learned something new today.”

Abraham didn’t move to look at Sarah as she spoke. His focus was on the sky and the faint glimmering of stars. He wished for the hint of a constellation to peek through.

“What did you learn?”

“If we marry, we can leave this place together.” 

She finally had his attention. When their eyes met, Abraham noticed something new in Sarah’s face. Something carnal. Almost sinister.

“Why would we marry?” He asked in confusion. As far as he could remember, this was the first time he and Sarah had spent any time alone outside of their normal recreational times. And here she was discussing marriage.

“Do you not like me, Abraham?” Sarah’s hand crept up Abraham’s thigh and rested near his zipper. The Sarah he knew and entertained was timid. This was not her. And he didn’t like it. With a gentle hand, Abraham swept her away before things went too far.

Unfortunately, Sarah took offense.

“You are sweet, Sarah. You’re my friend.”

“It’s  _ her, _ isn’t it?” Sarah paused at the sight of Abraham’s clenched jaw. She knew you were a sensitive topic and couldn’t bear to speak your name. You had always been there, in her way. “She’s not like us, Abraham.” 

“I know that.”

“She will never understand what we went through.”

Sarah reached to stroke his face but he quickly pulled.

“She doesn’t need to. We are free from that life now...I’m going back inside.”

Abraham shifted to rise from his seat but Sarah grabbed his arm to yank him back down. He was taken aback by her strength and the strong grip she had on his forearm.

“She will never love you, Abraham! She can’t!”

“You don’t say that about her!”

Abraham caught himself before he let his anger boil over. He could hear your words clearly in his head, telling him to remove himself from a situation if it ever felt out-of-hand. Before Abraham could fully process his thoughts into actions, he felt Sarah landing several hard punches to arms. He blocked a few until she became erratic. Her arms were flying in every direction, landing hits to his face and chest and screaming until veins were pulsating from her forehead. Abraham knew he could easily overpower Sarah, but harming her is the last thing he wanted to do.

“Stop! Stop it!” Abraham grabbed Sarah’s arms, but that led to her kicking and screaming more. He tried his best, thinking the calming tactics they learned in therapy would soothe her but she only seemed to become more irate. He felt for her and saw the frustration in the tears that started to stream down her face.

Sarah believed Abraham would be her saving grace. The man that would take her in and keep her safe from the horrible system they had been subjected. Her screams turned into wails, then into loud sobs that broke Abraham’s heart. He softened his grip on her arm, but she continued to punch and kick as if the anger was fighting to get out of her body.

Abraham had been so focused on Sarah, that he didn’t realize a crowd was beginning to funnel towards them. The stern voices of the doctors and security startled him as they approached, some with their hands to their waistbands reaching for weapons he couldn’t see.

“Sarah? Sarah, are you okay? Is he hurting you?” Sarah’s host stepped from the crowd and proceeded toward them. She was still inconsolable but calmed enough to let the woman pull her away from Abraham.

Abraham knew this drill well, so he remained seated and raised his hands in surrender.

“She was angry and hitting me. I tried to stop her!” He pleaded.

“Is that true, Sarah?”

“ _ I heard about this one, _ ” one of the men murmured to the others. “ _ It may take all of us. _ ”

“Sarah…” Abraham whispered. “Tell them I didn’t hurt you.”

Abraham watched in horror as Sarah looked up at her caretaker and slowly shook her head. 

The men carefully inched towards him. He knew the looks on their faces. And he knew what was next.


	10. Chapter 10

The jaded adult in you had absolutely underestimated how fun the games actually were. While Abraham danced you had another go at whack-a-mole and got lost in the dart toss until you finally won your own candy apple. You’d gotten so distracted that you lost sight of Abraham in the sea of attendees. The crowd has grown substantially, but even through that, you expected to see his height above everyone. When you couldn’t spot him or his pink sweater, you became worried.

You asked around, trying not to panic until screams drew you to a group of people outside.

“Abraham!” 

A barrage of hands grabbed at you as you pummelled through the crowd. 

“Get off of me! Get the fuck* off of me! Move!” 

By the time you reached Abraham, he was being held down by at least three attendants, and even they were struggling to keep him still. Another security guard stood to the side with his taser gun pointed towards Abraham’s body. Sarah hid among the crowd, looking almost as terrified as Abraham did.

Without hesitation, you dropped to the ground in front of him, making your body a shield against any other weapons. You immediately reached for his face as he cried into the concrete, wiping away what blood and tears you could.

“Ma’am, we need you to move!”

“Let him go!”

“We can’t do that! He’s dangerous and we need to -”

You were sure you looked like a madwoman as you tried to pry the men’s hands away from Abraham’s body. 

“I said let him go! Leave him alone!”

It took your voice nearly breaking for them to finally ease up. For the most part, they had only roughed him up and scared him, but that was enough for you to be angry. For months, Abraham had made outstanding progress. He knew how to control his anger and he had managed to stay away from people that would harm him. Until tonight. 

The spectators slowly dispersed as you helped Abraham from the ground. From the stragglers, Dr. Young emerged with his lips stretched into a thin line. 

“You know this is unacceptable. Some regression is expected, but you know he has a history of being violent…”

“So do white people, but you still have a job.” You continued to dust off Abraham while the color drained from Dr. Young’s face. “And he can hear you, you know? No need to talk around him. He’s a grown man.”

“To be safe, I think we should issue a formal suspension.”

“Suspension? Is this high school?”   
  


“It’s for you as much as it is for Abraham. You need to think about your behavior.”’

“Yeah, okay.” You rolled your eyes and surveyed the ground for your purse and what was left of your candy apple. “I won’t argue with you. I won’t argue because you’re right. I will absolutely think about my behavior and whether or not the program is even good for him.”

“We’ll play it by ear for now, but expect a memo come Monday.”

“Fine,” you huffed, grabbing Abraham by the elbow. “I’ll be waiting.”

Abraham rolled the soreness out of his shoulders and leaned against you gently for support. You wrapped your arm around his waist and slowly walked him back to the car, ignoring all the looks and whispers from the crowd.

Face hot and hands trembling, you drove home in silence. You didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. 

Abraham’s head throbbed from pain, exacerbated by each bump in the rough roads of your neighborhood. You took your time, pulling into the garage and helping him in the house, although he could tell something was boiling beneath the surface. 

Abraham settled in a kitchen chair as you prepped an ice bag for his face. He held it firmly to his swollen spots as you searched the kitchen for a first-aid kit.

“I can’t believe them!” 

There it was. The anger had bubbled to the surface again. 

Abraham flinched every time you slammed a drawer or cabinet in the kitchen. His nose had stopped bleeding on the ride home, but a few scratches on his face still needed cleaning up. There was no use taking him to an emergency room because he barely had proper documentation, and definitely no insurance. Plus, you were confident you could fix him up at home.

The taste of salt and copper was still prominent in his mouth. He would have spit but he felt too light-headed to walk at the moment. 

“Can you help me to bed? Please...”

Startled by the softness of his voice, you quickly abandoned your task to run to his aid. 

“Oh yeah, yeah of course.” You draped his arm over your shoulder. “Take your time.”

It’s a tedious task, but the two of you make it to his room. Once he’s seated on his bed and stable, you run to grab and glass a water and a couple of painkillers from the bathroom. Something to ease the pain for the time being. He took them, albeit reluctantly, and thanked you in a low voice. 

That pink sweater, now stained with blood, wasn’t meant to have a second life. You helped him pull it over his head, along with the undershirt that the stains had also leaked down to. His bare chest wasn’t as scratched as you thought, but there were definite bruises forming.

“Abraham…” You tried to fight the tears that were welling in your eyes, but they fell anyhow. The next thing you knew, you were full out sobbing while cradling his head in your hands. He covered your hands with his and leaned into your touch. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry they did this to you. I’m so sorry.”

Between words, you pressed soft kisses to Abraham’s forehead. Maybe affection would ease the pain. Erase the trauma. Do something other than hurt him.

“I love you…”

His words creaked out, barely above a whisper. He pulled himself away from you, keeping hold of your hands as they dropped into his lap. He half expected the shock on your face. 

“Wh...what?”

Abraham thought about his words again. He knew he meant them and had felt that way for a while. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time, but it didn’t matter. 

“I...love you.”

Your first instinct was to step away. To run. But your feet remained planted before him. It felt like you were sinking into the carpet with every lingering moment. Tears still spilled from your eyes, running over your cheeks and lips until they ultimately dripped down your neck.

You didn’t know what to say. 

Although saying “I love you” in return was honest, it seemed inappropriate. Surely Abraham was misguided in his love. You were his teacher. His savior. He could love you but he couldn’t be *in* love with you. He shouldn’t be. Nor should you be *in* love with him. 

The soft calling of your name brought you back to earth. Abraham still held tight to your hands but his face showed lines of worry.

“Did I say it wrong?”

You smiled softly and splayed your fingers enough to loosen his grip. He watched your hands fly to your face and wipe away the remaining tears and snot. 

“No. You didn’t say it wrong. You didn’t say it wrong.”

“But-”

“It’s been a long day, Abraham. We should rest, yeah? Let’s rest.”

Abraham nodded in agreement. He was unsure of how he made you upset. This didn’t happen in the movies or in the romance novel he once snuck and read. If his fantasy came true, you would have thrown yourself into his arms and wrestled off the rest of your clothes. Then he would have truly made love for the first time. 

But that didn’t happen. It all went wrong.

You avoided his eye contact and nervously made your exit, softly closing the door of your bedroom behind you. 

The chemistry between you two couldn’t be denied. Abraham had come to you in a compromised state. He had been abused and traumatized and the hands of the people who were supposed to help him before. 

You had naively coddled him in the beginning, thinking he needed to be babied, but he quickly became his own man, with tastes and preferences. Humor and pet peeves. He was whole. 

The failure to validate his feelings made you no better than be people you tried to protect him from. He could be trusted with his own emotions and how he chose to express them.

And for that reason, you had to believe him. You had to believe that he loved you. 

You sighed at your own realization. Accepting his feelings would mean addressing your own as well and you weren’t sure if you were ready to do that. Never mind how it would complicate everything else going on. 

A quick, warm shower distracted for a few minutes but Abraham’s words remained fresh on your mind. 

Love. 

Outside of the familial kind, you had been doing the poor job of distancing yourself from love. Your past was littered with heartbreaks that you were getting too old and tired to repeat. To be honest, you didn’t think you had much more love in you - until Abraham. 

You knew love those moments he’d stand next to you in the kitchen, pleading to help. You knew love when you would hear him reading random magazine articles out loud in the middle of the night. You knew love when he’d softly smile at you across the dinner table, thankful that someone was finally treating him like a human. 

It was just barely 10 PM when you finished your night routine and crawled into bed. Technically, the night was still young, and on a typical evening you’d be drowning in paperwork but you didn’t have the energy for that. 

The television was on for background noise, but you had turned away from it and buried yourself beneath many thick blankets. Sleep was a distant thought as your mind raced with scenarios. Would it anger Abraham if you didn’t return his feelings? Would you be able to live with yourself if you lied to him like that?

What seemed like hours later, you heard a soft knock on your door.

“Come in,” you said, sitting up and turning down the TV.

Abraham opened the door slowly and stepped inside. He closed it gently after himself and stood at the threshold. He took slow, deep breaths, his shoulders rising and falling each time. 

“Sit. Please...” You folded back your covers and motioned him to you. 

He tugged at the hem of his sleep shirt and sat next to you, bare legs nearly touching yours.

“I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing…”

“Abraham, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.” You reached out to grab his hands, steadying his slight tremors. 

He could have melted at your touch. The warmth of your hands, the lightness of your fingers, the sweetness of you.

“I do love you,” he proclaimed, with more conviction than the previous times. One hand floated up to cradle your face and trace the folds of your silk scarf. 

You felt your eyes well up with tears again and didn’t bother to hold them back. Without much thought, you leaned into him and gently pressed your lips together. When you pulled away, you were met with a familiar look in his eye. 

“I love you, too.”

In the heat of the moment, you didn’t contest anything that started to happen. Not the hand that began to roam your body or the trembling lips that gave you more tender kisses. He didn’t want to part from you for long, but between breaks, Abraham’s shirt had somehow ended up on your bedroom floor. 

  
He led your hands to his chest, inviting you to touch him.

His body wasn’t new to you. You had seen him proud and dewy that one morning. You’d help him nurse wounds new and old. Scrubbed his back in the bath. He wasn’t ashamed or hiding himself from you. He wanted you to feel him. To love him. Finally.

Your hands shakily explored his flesh. You hovered around the folds of his stomach, up to biceps, before finally settling on his chest, right above his rapidly beating heart.

“It’s okay,” he assured, leaning into another kiss. He pulled back and spoke against your lips. “I won’t hurt you.”

You nodded as your hands dropped the waistband of his shorts.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know.”


End file.
